Love, Sex, and a Bottle of Vodka
by atalanta's apples
Summary: Chapter Twenty Eight-updated 6.1- Hermione has a wild night out and tries to forget about it...but a certain someone won't let her. HermionexDraco
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer**: All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Love, Sex, and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter One**

* * *

Hermione didn't want the night to end. She sipped whatever was in her glass and giggled, it was making her feel tipsy. The lights in the club were making her dizzy and she wanted to dance it off. She grabbed her friend's hand and dragged her down to the dance floor. It was so packed Hermione kept bumping into people and she could smell their sweat. It smelled salty and sweet, dangerously close.

It was an unexpected talent but Hermione had discovered early that summer when a muggle friend had dragged her out to a club, that dancing was one of her redeeming qualities. It was something she was good at without having to try. And Hermione also discovered that she liked dancing, a lot. She let herself go and just started to dance. She was shaking her head, really getting into it, the lights were spinning and so was her head.

"I'm thirsty," shouted her friend over the music. Hermione opened her eyes, her vision blurry. "I'm getting something to drink, coming?" Hermione shook her head no and closed her eyes again. These late night outings. Hermione found she lived for them. Dancing was like her drug and she needed it badly. She felt herself drowning in the music. Hermione turned around and found herself face to face with a long, lanky boy. He was fair-haired and too familiar. But it can't be him, Hermione reasoned to herself. What would he be doing in the muggle world? The boy also looked surprised to see her and but a smirk spread across his face. He put his arms around her and Hermione let herself be pulled. She danced with him and he seemed to be impressed with how well she could dance.

"Do I know you?" asked Hermione.

"Only too well." Maybe it was her drink but something made Hermione go against all her instincts and pull him towards the drink bar. Hermione's eyesight was still blurry and the boy's hair in the light made it look like a halo. There was something extremely ethereal at him and as they passed, people, boys and girls alike, slid a glance at him.

"Who are you?" asked Hermione. Her mind felt fuzzy.

"I can't believe you don't remember me, Granger." Being referred to by her last name started to ring a bell in the back of her head. Then, the notion of who it is disappeared and all she remembered was that this boy was someone she did know. But was it someone she could trust?

"You look nice today," said the boy, strangely formal. Hermione threw back her head and let her hair, now long, reaching almost her back in curls, hang.

"I don't look this nice always?" she asked, teasingly. The boy looked as if he was going to answer when she leaned forward and kissed him. Just a flirt kiss, nothing really, but the boy looked extremely surprised. So she leaned forward and did it again. Hermione, out of school, really wasn't the same bookworm she was at Hogwarts. And she liked it. Keep up with studies during the school year, who cares in the summer? This time, he leaned into the kiss and whispered something. Hermione strained to hear and realized that he was whispering her name into her ear, her hair, as the music rocked on...

* * *

Hermione woke up to find herself in an unknown apartment. It was spacious, beautiful, and lived in. Suddenly, her blood ran cold. What happened? Why hadn't her friend stopped her from going home with a stranger? Did anything happen? Hermione realized that she was lying on a couch, her dance clothes wrinkled from sleeping in them. Huh, mused Hermione. At least I didn't do anything I would regret. I guess I did keep some of my senses, but then...what the hell am I doing here? She saw someone lying on the ground, arms sprawled. Hermione frowned and looked closer.

_Oh My God,_ she thought, frantically. Those fair eyebrows, soft hair, lips naturally curved, strong nose...god, who else could it be but Draco?

_Oh My God,_ thought Hermione again._ I woke up in Malfoy's apartment..._


	2. Chapter Two

_Disclaimer_: All things belong to J.K. Rowling

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**Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Hermione couldn't believe herself. Wasn't she supposed to be responsible? _Well, not quite_, mused Hermione. She almost laughed when she thought of what Harry and Ron would think of their favorite bookworm best friend waking up in someone else's apartment. Make that _Draco Malfoy's_ apartment. That brought her to her present problem. Hermione looked around for her purse and spotted it on the floor by the door. It was hastily thrown, things falling out. Hermione didn't even want to know if Draco saw some of the things that were in there. Hermione, as softly as possible, tried stepping by Draco to gather her purse and leave. Then, she felt a warm hand grasp her ankle.

"Don't think you're going anywhere too fast, Granger," he said, voice slightly muffled. He still hadn't looked up. Hermione scowled.

"Look, Malfoy," she said, pissed off. "I think I have to go now."

"I don't think so," said Draco, sitting up, face equally pissed. "You should be glad I brought you here." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I think I know what you were planning on doing, Malfoy," hissed Hermione. Draco lay back on the blankets, rolling his eyes also.

"Don't flatter yourself Granger, you were _so _drunk." Hermione frowned.

"Was not," she said, angrily. "All I had was mineral water…"

"Ever heard of your drink being spiked?"

"Shut up," said Hermione. "Maybe I was sick or something last night." Draco nodded.

"Thank God you didn't throw up Granger." Hermione flushed, embarrassed. What she was most embarrassed about was that she didn't remember a minute of the night before. Wait…could what Draco had been saying correct? Maybe he wasn't letting on as much as he knew.

"Why did you take me here?" demanded Hermione.

"Because you were sick," he answered, simply. He lay back over and groaned. "It's too early for this, Granger, get some more sleep."

"Fuck, no," hissed Hermione. "Why the hell am I here anyway? I want to go home and I want to go home _now_." Draco looked at her. They both had the identical pissed off expression on their faces.

"Look Hermione," said Draco. Hermione softened a bit, hearing him call her by her first name. "I can take you home now and you can sneak into your room and pretend it never happened. Or you can stick around so you know the whole story." Hermione finally sank onto the floor next to Draco.

"Fine," she said, through gritted teeth. Draco grinned.

"Like I said, it's too early." Draco rolled over and immediately started to breathe deeply and evenly. Hermione swore, not too quietly and laid down next to him, scowling as her arm brushed his. She hoped he would wake up fast; patience was not quite her virtue.


	3. Chapter Three

_Disclaimer:_ J.K. Rowling owns everything but the plot

Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka

Chapter Three

"Get up," ordered Hermione. She kicked Draco not so gently.

"Jesus, women," he muttered. He checked his Rolex™ watch. "It's ten for godsakes."

"Glad your daddy bought you a watch and you can read it," said Hermione, sarcastically.

"Goddamn, you should be thanking me for what I did last night," said Draco, sitting up, rubbing his temples. Hermione bit her lip and tried not to think of the way the morning sunlight was shining around Draco. _What the hell_, thought Hermione. _Did his dad just go and buy him the _sun_ too! How is it that he controls everything..._

"I'll thank you when I find out what you exactly did," said Hermione. "And stop swearing."

"It's not like you've got a golden mouth either, Granger," said Draco. He rolled over. "Honestly, I'm too tired."

"And I don't care."

"Fine, let me get some breakfast first," said Draco, finally standing up. He was eight inches taller than Hermione's own five feet, five inches but she wasn't intimidated.

"Women," he said, walking away into an immaculate kitchen. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." Hermione threw her purse at him.

"This is all you can make?" asked Hermione, poking the scrambled eggs around her plate. She felt her stomach turn slightly.

"What?" asked Draco, looking pissed but also slightly miffed at the dig at his not so great cooking skills. He reminded Hermione of an offended cat as he stalked back to the cupboard and found some ketchup and salt and pepper.

"What's that for?" asked Hermione, eyes narrowed.

"Scrambled eggs aren't scrambled eggs until you have stuff on them," said Draco. Hermione, clamped a hand over her mouth as soon as the smell of the extra condiments hit her nose.

"Bathroom?" she managed to say. Draco quickly took her by the arm and led her to a bathroom where Hermione reached just in time to throw up all into the toilet.

"Go me," she muttered. "Not a single speck on the floor."

"What did you say?" called Draco from the other side of the door. He had refused to go in; he wouldn't admit it but watching people throw up made him throw up. He may look strong but some things made him weak right down to his knees.

"I SAID," shouted Hermione. "Not a single SPECK on the FLOOR."

"Sorry," said Draco. He was actually sincerely sorry, for once. "I didn't remember that you were probably hung over." Hermione flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth and splashed cold water on her face.

"I'm using your toothbrush," said Hermione. Draco swore under his breath. He had a thing about privacy and his stuff.

"I could get you a new one," suggested Draco, through the door. _Don't use my toothbrush, don't use my toothbrush_, he thought. Hermione popped her head out, mouth foaming, and sure enough, Draco's toothbrush in her mouth. She smirked at Draco's horror. She spat out the toothpaste foam and let the mintyness settle and tingle her tongue.

"What would get me wasted?" asked Hermione, wiping her mouth on a towel. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Maybe this?" he asked, pulling a small water bottle from Hermione's purse. "It hit me when you threw your purse at me," he explained, rolling his blue-gray eyes. Hermione unscrewed the cap and sniffed it tentatively.

"Vodka?" she asked.

"Only the very best," said Draco, smirking.

"How did this happen?" muttered Hermione. Hermione rinsed her mouth a couple more times and when she straightened, she felt a head rush coming and saw stars. She lurched forward slightly and Draco caught her. He frowned when he felt the bones easily in her arms and back.

"Yeah, maybe I can find something for you to eat that's nice and easy," he said, his voice suddenly soft. It was the kind of voice you would say to a child to put them to sleep. "Eating okay?" Hermione felt her eyes close, lids heavy.

"Whatever you say," she said. Draco frowned again.

"You didn't answer the question," he said. He looked down and saw Hermione half asleep already in his arms.

"Don't sleep now," said Draco. "I hope you don't think I'm gonna carry you all the way over to the bed." Hermione scowled slightly, eyes still closed.

"Shut up, don't exert yourself, Draco," she murmured, then fell asleep. Draco smiled slightly. _I guess all the talking and throwing up made her tired. Hmm, I made her mad again. _Draco gathered up Hermione's slim form and carried her to his bed and tucked her in among the clean white sheets. Hermione pressed her hot cheek to the cool, pressed linen.

"Sleep tight," said Draco, softly. "You're gonna need energy for when I tell you everything." Hermione answered by snuggling into the pillows.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

**oo Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka oo**

**oo Chapter Four oo**

"About time you're awake," said Draco. Hermione groggily sat up then suddenly realized where she was. She tried to discreetly check to see if her clothes were still on when Draco snorted.

"Don't spaz," he said, smirking. "If I wanted to, I would have. But I didn't." Hermione didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted. Why hadn't he? Maybe he was more of a gentleman than she thought...or maybe he didn't want to make the first move. Hermione shook her head. What the hell was she thinking?

"You were hung over and threw up," said Draco. "In case you couldn't remember." Hermione felt her temples starting to throb.

"I remember," she croaked. Her body was practically screaming for water. She tried to swallow. "Can I have something to drink? Water?" Draco left the room and Hermione could hear the faucet being turned on, then off. She kicked off the blankets. She was in a cold sweat and was feeling very uncomfortable. Her jeans which were normally very sleek was now rumpled and her shirt was sagging. She didn't even want to think about what her face looked like.

"Here," said Draco, and pressed a couple of pills into her hand too. "It's not any of that muggle crap, it's from the wizarding world, guaranteed to get rid of hell's headaches." Hermione looked at him warily.

"Just drink," said Draco. Hermione finally popped the pills into her mouth. Couldn't hurt to try. As soon as she finished drinking down the water, she felt herself starting to feel a lot better.

"Do you have anything to wear?" asked Hermione, frowning.

"Yeah," agreed Draco. "You're a mess. Take a shower, I'll look for something that might fit you." Hermione felt her clammy skin. Definitely. A nice hot shower and she'll be as good as new...hopefully.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione stepped out of the shower to see that Draco had left out for her large shirt, obviously his. She gathered her wavy hair on top of her head into a ponytail. Her face was scrubbed clean of any makeup. Hermione buttoned up Draco's shirt and found it comfortably fit and fell halfway down her thighs. She _knew_ she wasn't supposed to use magic but this was an emergency...Hermione drew out her wand, which was hanging around her neck from a delicate chain. It had been reduced in size and now she made it large again. Muttering a few incantations, she changed her jeans to comfortable, wide khaki pants. They settled loosely and hung at her hips, stopping at her ankles.

"Did you die in there or something?" asked Draco, pounding on the door. "If you think you can keep it down, I have some lunch." Hermione considered. Her growling stomach answered her dilemma.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"That looks cute," said Draco, approvingly, as Hermione sat down.

"Shut up," she warned. Lunch was half a sandwich and some soup. Hermione took a spoonful of clam chowder and carefully tested it. Draco noticed the sunlight coming from one of the windows, bouncing off the thin line of her wrist.

"Weren't you going to tell me something?" asked Hermione, eyebrows raised. That brought Draco back to the present.

"I was? Oh, right," said Draco, regaining composure.

"Yeah, I want to know what the hell I'm doing here," said Hermione. "You never explained."

"I didn't?" asked Draco, acting innocent.

"Cut the crap Draco," said Hermione. Draco rolled his eyes. Obviously someone didn't do well with hangovers.

"You really wanna know?" asked Draco.

"What do you think?"

"Fine."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Hermione was dancing when she bumped into a guy. _

_"Hey, you, what are you doing here? Haven't seen you forever," he said. Hermione grinned._

_"Good to see you to," she answered. _

_"Yeah, what have you been up to? I heard you were a bit of a party animal, doesn't seem like it fits into your Hogwarts bookworm status, does it?" he joked. Hermoine smirked. _

_  
"Sure." _

_"Do you want something to drink?" he asked. Hermione cocked her head._

_"Now that you mention it, I am really thirsty. Could you? Just non-alcoholic, I don't do well with alcohol." The boy went off and got a mineral water for Hermione, but while she wasn't looking, he poured something else in. _

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Do you remember that night at all?" asked Draco. Hermione thought slowly. She remembered lights and the music thumping inside of her, but not anything else.

"Nooo," she said, slowly, shaking her head. Draco made an impatient noise.

"I watched you since you walked into the club," said Draco. "And I saw him do that."

"Who was it?"

"Obviously someone we all know," said Draco. "But what I'm wondering is what they were doing in a muggle club."

"So then how did I get here?"

"I knew he was gonna try and do something when he put that in your drink so I

made sure you ran into me...then took you home. I'm a safe guy, you know. But try to remember, could you? I'd like to know what Hogwarts guy is out in muggle clubs." Hermione fell into deep thought, then suddenly realized something.

"You were watching me?" she asked.

"Don't flatter yourself," said Draco. He smirked and looked down. Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back.

"I think I'm done," she said. Draco gave her a disbelieving look.

"No you aren't," he said. "You barely touched your soup and you didn't even eat your sandwich."

"I don't think I can keep it down," argued Hermione.

"Bullshit," said Draco. "Sit down." Suddenly, a haughty air seemed to emerge around Draco. Hermione shivered. Did it just suddenly get cold in here? She dropped quickly into the chair. Draco scrutinized her.

"Damn, you too?" he asked, softly.

"What?" asked Hermione, feeling defensive. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"This is what," he said, pulling one of her wrists. He could easily touch all of his fingers to his thumb around her wrist, even his pinky. Hermione tried to pull away but Draco's grip was strong.

"Ow, Draco, that hurts," she cried. Draco finally let go and looked at the white fingerprint marks on her wrist dazedly.

"Bastard," she muttered.

"Sure," he said. "Call me all the names you want but how much I just hurt you isn't anything compared to what you're doing to yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, crossing her arms again.

"Don't play dumb," said Draco. He already had to deal with this with Pansy. She had lost so much weight. She was hospitalized this summer and taking some counseling. Draco eyed Hermione. From the rate she was going, it was obvious that she looked like she was heading down the same road.

"Come on Hermione," he urged. He pushed some orange juice towards her. Hermione slowly drank it down, glaring at Draco the whole time.

"Now may I leave, daddy?" she asked, biting off each word.

"I'm not keeping you here," said Draco.

"Last time I checked, I think you were," she said.

"Am I now?" he asked, throwing his hands up. Hermione glared at him.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, narrowing her eyes warily.

"Doing what?" Draco stifled a yawn.

"Never mind," said Hermione. As she walked past him, though, Draco grabbed her wrist again. They looked at each other for a second...then before either knew what was happening, Hermione and Draco found themselves latched onto the other's lips. _Oh. My. God._ Thought Hermione. Funny how life works. One minute you hate a person and want to be as far as humanly possible. One minute you'd rather fall down a staircase of knives and land in a pot of lemon juice and sand. One minute you wish you can castrate that bastard so that that infuriating smirk is ripped right off his face. And then the next minute, you're kissing him...and can't imagine wishing you can be anywhere else...

oooooooooooooooooooooooo


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot

**Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter Five**

_What really bugs me is when people say they're fat, you know? So that other people would reassure them that they AREN'T fat when they already know that they aren't. Because there are so many annoying people in the world like that, no one takes me seriously when I say I'm fat. It doesn't even matter if they tell me that I'm not, it's how I see myself that matters to me and when I look in the mirror, I don't even recognize myself. All I see is a stranger, maybe a sparkle of who I was. And now I'm getting worried that maybe someday when I look in the mirror, there won't be a trace of me left there and all I'll be left staring into the eyes of a stranger._

Hermione let her pen trail and make squiggly marks down the page of her journal. Honestly, ballpoint pens were so much more useful than quills. No messy ink spills or no need to sharpen quill points. Absentmindedly, she let herself doodle, making loose circles all over the page, some even eating up her writing. Her mind was floating back to earlier in the summer.

* * *

_Flashback_

"My god Hermione!" cried her mom. "How much weight have you lost?"

"It's hormones," said Hermione, lamely. That didn't stop her mother from grabbing her around the wrist and dragging her to the bathroom.

"NO, I don't WANT to be weighed!" cried Hermione. "Let me go, this is summer break for god sakes, leave me alone!" But her mother didn't.

"Not until you get on that scale. What have you been doing all school year Hermione? Starving yourself!" Hermione finally, reluctantly, got on the scale and her mother let out a sharp gasp.

"I taught you to be sensible Hermione," she said, looking angry, disappointed, and sad.

"I AM sensible, Mom, I get the best grades in the whole damn school, isn't that enough for you?"

"You're seeing a doctor, as soon as possible Hermione, I don't care if you hate me for the rest of your life as long as you go." Hermione ran to her room and slammed the door shut. Her parents had a thing about having locks on doors. They said that it was one of the reasons why families these days were always shut out of each other's lives. So Hermione pushed a chair up against the door and huddled in a far corner of her room. God she hated her life.

_

* * *

_

Hermione winced thinking about that day. She made her mother cry. Although her mother didn't let Hermione see her tears, Hermione could hear the tears in her voice as she phoned Hermione's dad.

_"She's barely eighty pounds! Honey, she's 5' 6"!" _her mother had said. _"I know, I've already got an appointment lined up. No, don't talk to her; she won't come out of her room. I know. I love you. See you soon. Bye." _

Her mother had sounded detached and lonely. It almost made Hermione want to push the chair aside and run and hug her mom. Almost, but not quite. Then, there was the appointment.

* * *

_Flashback_

"So Ms. Granger, can I call you Hermione?"

"Um, yes," said Hermione. The woman seated in front of her was the kind of woman people might call handsome rather than pretty. She was solid and compact and looked as if the chair she was sitting in was made for her. Dressed in a no-nonsense suit, hair pulled severely from her face, she reminded Hermione almost of Professor McGonagall. Hermione promised herself that she wouldn't be intimidated but it was hard.

"How long have you believed that you were fat?" she asked. Hermione squirmed a bit in her seat.

"Summer of fourteen," Hermione answered. She wasn't sure if it was true or not but did it really matter?

"Do you know why you might be doing this to yourself?"

"I'm not happy with myself, I feel like I have to prove something to my family and my friends, I think that being thin is the only good quality that I have." Hermione felt proud of herself, that she could name all of these things and still go home and throw up the salad that she'd buy for herself. Of course the psychiatrist wouldn't know that. She'd think that she was finally making progress. Let her think that.

_

* * *

_

So Hermione let her doctor think that for as long as it took. Then she started to run away from home. Tell her parents she was staying at a friend's house and just go out dancing. She'd never try to drink. That time, when Draco brought her home, was really when she had ever gotten drunk and it wasn't her fault. Instead she'd drink water with lemon, then go out to a twenty-four hour mini-mart and buy powdered donuts and root beer and eat them on the curb outside only to throw them back up six hours later. That summer her clothes were stained with powdered sugar and she constantly smelled like processed sugar.

"Hermione?" This time it was Draco standing outside the door and Hermione sulkily refusing to open it. After Draco had kissed her, Hermione had no clue what to do and she just bolted like a deer in the headlights. Now she was seriously regretting it but she can't change the past. Something changed when she woke up in Draco's apartment. Hermione didn't really want to be who she was this summer. With a start, Hermione realized something. Draco was _healing_ her.

"Hermione?" This time his voice was more urgent. Hermione flung open the door and fell into Draco's arms.

"Thank you," she said, voice muffled into his shirt. Draco was bewildered.

"For what?" he asked. He awkwardly stroked her hair. She smiled although Draco couldn't see her.

"I don't know yet," she finally answered. She tilted her face up and kissed him. It took her a moment to get enough control to speak.

"But thanks." Draco grinned.

"No," he said softly. "Thank _you_."


	6. Chapter Six

_Disclaimer_: Nothing but the plot is mine

* * *

**Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Draco was sitting on the unmade covers of his bed, brooding, something he was particularly good at. His white gold eyebrows were pulled together as if tied by an invisible string and his forehead was a network of tiny wrinkles.

_If only I could remember¸_ Draco thought, _but I needed to get Hermione out of there and out of there as soon as possible_. Still, it wasn't hard for Draco to mentally kick himself several times. He wished that he could have seen the guy with Hermione. If the club hadn't been so dark…if Draco hadn't felt as if he had to take Hermione away right away… Something was going to happen, Draco knew it, and by the way Hermione was acting earlier when they had danced he knew that she wasn't herself, whoever the hell that was. Draco lay back on his velvet covers. Why had he suddenly taken Hermione as his very special pet?

_It must be the eyes, or the hair_, a voice somewhere inside of him answered.

_No no, _another argued. _It's her trusting_ soul. Draco rolled over onto his stomach, his hot cheek pressed against the cool satin pillow. He let the clashing arguments roll over and over in his head, as if he was tasting it, like a delicacy.

"It's both," Draco realized, out loud. Draco had prided himself on being one of the sharpest people around. He hated stereotypes but he knew that he fit into the rebel 'I'm too good for school' persona but what the hell? He hated school, full of controlling, self-important teachers who only cared about their minimum wage paying jobs and stuck up students who checked and rechecked their applications into whatever yuppie college they could get into. All of these things were true and Draco's ego was bruised. He hadn't even realized he was falling for Hermione. And what would that do to his reputation?

Draco groaned and buried his face in his pillow. How could such a bookworm change his life? Hermione's face swam in front of him in his mind. He still didn't know what it was about that face. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the face to leave his mind…and he wasn't sure if he wanted it to.

"Hey um, Draco?" asked Hermione. They were both sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, picking at their foods, too absorbed in their own thoughts to even think about eating.

"Yeah?" He lifted his eyes slowly and heavily.

"You don't happen to have a phone do you? I know since it's a muggle invention you probably won't have it but.." Draco tossed her a small phone.

"While I'm crashing on my own, I like to get the full muggle experience, you know, living it rough? I made sure the magic wouldn't mess up the phone." Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned as she caught the small phone.

"You don't know what rough is Draco," she said. Draco started to say something, an indignant look on his face, but Hermione silenced him by raising a thin index finger.

"I have to call someone," Hermione said. Draco frowned. As Hermione retired back to the room that she was staying in, she could hear Draco mutter, "I know what rough is…"

Hermione quickly dialed a number into the phone, enjoying the sound of the familiar beeps. She might be a witch but underneath it all she was still just a human. The phone rang several times until it picked up and a soft voice said, "Hello?" Hermione was overwhelmed with emotion and familiarity and a sense of longing as she tried to find her voice.

"Hello?" the voice asked again. Hermione took a deep breath. _Come on, _she thought. _Gather yourself up_.

"Hi Harry."

* * *

Draco stirred the soup in his bowl over and over again. Who could she be calling? Her parents? A muggle friend? Draco didn't like overly nosy people and didn't like being one but he couldn't help wondering. He made a mini whirlpool in his tomato soup with his spoon, amusing himself with little things. He sighed and picked up their plates full of uneaten foods and loaded them in the dishwasher. He poured out some white powder and turned on the dishwasher. He really was getting the full muggle experience and truthfully, he didn't think it was too bad. The magic world always thing they are so superior to the muggles but truthfully, Draco thought that how far they've come with technology was pretty interesting. His father begged to differ.

Draco ambled into the living room where he collapsed on his couch and looked for the remote. He located it squished between two cushions and he turned on the TV. He was in luck. He caught a couple of dramas and a comedy, letting his mind go comatose as he watched the colorful pictures appear on the front of the box. For once his mind dared to wander away from Hermione. His old self gave a sigh of relief. Maybe now Draco will come to his senses. But the new Draco, the one that had let himself fall in love with a mudblood, disagreed and his old self gave a sad sigh of resignation.

* * *

"Hey," replied Harry. "_Hey_, is something wrong?" Hermione could have just listened to his familiar voice for an hour or just listened to him _breathe_, that was how desperate she was to hold onto something that was old. A wave of nostalgia washed over her and covered her like a blanket.

"No, nothing's wrong," said Hermione. She laughed slightly. "Actually no, that's the biggest lie I've ever told." She could imagine Harry's face wrinkling into his concerned frown. He didn't say anything and Hermione knew that he wouldn't. She knew that Harry would listen to her without overwhelming her and he would also not try to pry things out of her. He just waited and she waited also, trying to carefully pick her words so _she_ wouldn't overwhelm _him_.

"It's a long story," she started, hesitantly. "It's been a long summer." Harry still said nothing. He made a small encouraging sound but other than that he was silent.

"It started with a muggle friend of mine," said Hermione. "She and I go out sometimes." She found that as the more she talked, the easier it was. She now just had to be careful she wasn't babbling. Not that someone like Harry would care but Hermione had an inane fear that people would tire of her.

Harry listened like a true friend and only interrupted once with a sound of amazement when she told him where she was staying. After her story was over, there were seconds of silence that felt as though it were hours instead.

"Well, that is a long story," Harry finally said. Hermione laughed, quietly but truly.

"Help me Harry," whispered Hermione, her tone serious. She had tried to keep an uplifting tone when she was telling her story to Harry but now she was tired and realized her situation. "What do I do from here? I don't know what to do now." She heard Harry sigh on the other end.

"I think you know what to do," he finally said.

"But I don't!" Harry knew Hermione well and eased into the habit of waiting out Hermione's lies.

"I'm afraid," Hermione finally said. "I feel like I made a solid friend, Harry, but I'm afraid that when we go back to Hogwarts all of this will change again and he'll go back to who he was."

"That's out of our hands," said Harry. "That's up to Draco to decide how he should act when we go back." They were silent again.

"It'll be our last year," Hermione said softly. "Our seventh and final year. Time really does fly you know." Harry was quiet for a while.

"It'll be the end of Hogwarts," Harry finally said. "But it won't be the end of us. You'll always have me Hermione. You'll always have me, Ron, Ginny, all of us." Hermione smiled into the phone, knowing Harry would sense it.

"I love you Harry," she said. It was easier to say it without the intensity that she had said the same phrase to him only a year before.

"Same," said Harry, easily. The awkwardness that they endured was gone, shed like an old sweater. "You take care, Hermione, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks for everything."

"No problem." Hermione listened to the click on the other end before she turned off the phone. She sat there, emotions thick in her throat. How much things had changed. It was like they had turned in a full circle. Friends muddling into something confusing, maybe something more, and then back around to friends. But they were closer, tighter, their foundation was solid. Hermione smiled. How lucky she was to have a dependable, strong guy like Harry.

* * *

The next person Hermione wanted to contact desperately was Ginny. She gnawed on her thumb wondering how she could meet the redhead.

"Hey Draco, you don't happen to have an owl around here, do you?" Draco shook his head.

"Is it just you or are all girls so demanding?" he asked, reaching into a golden cage. He drew out a large brown owl.

"I don't know," Hermione said, truthfully. "I think it's just me. I'm not usually this demanding, you know." Draco offered her the owl.

"What's its name?' asked Hermione, accepting it. Draco looked away.

"My mother named it," he said.

"That's great, what's its name?"

"It's sweet really, if you were a girl," he said.

"That's why I'd like to know," said Hermione, getting impatient. She's worked with lots of different owls and she's come to learn that usually knowing their names helped her coax them and help them do their job quicker.

"Prince Charming," said Draco, quietly. Hermione looked at the large owl then at Draco. She started to laugh.

"It wasn't my idea!" said Draco, angrily.

"It's sweet," said Hermione. "Prince Charming? Do you have a rat too that you call Cinderella?" Draco shoved some parchment into her hand.

"Go do whatever," he said then hesitated. "Would you like to eat dinner with me later?" he asked, oddly formal.

"Sure, I'm hungry," she said. Draco brightened. Hermione was sure that ever since she realized Draco was helping her in some unknown way, she's started to become hungry again.

"You must be sick of being in the apartment all the time, I'll take you out," said Draco. He started to leave the room, to give Hermione some privacy.

"Draco?" said Hermione, right before he walked through the doorway. He turned around.

"Thanks, you know, for everything." He grinned and raised a hand.

"It's nothing. You'd do the same for Potter or Weasley or any of your friends right?" Hermione was quiet. She somehow conjured up the courage to say,

"I'd do it for you too, you know." Draco looked surprised.

"I'll see you in a bit," he finally answered. "Thanks." And he was gone. Hermione smiled to herself then realized she was still holding the parchment and she still wanted to see Ginny. She started to write.


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling

Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka

Chapter Seven

Hermione sat at a small café, sipping her ice coffee, slightly annoyed. She jiggled her feet in time to the Norah Jones song that was coming out through the stereo softly. People talked amiably around her and a gas fire was burning in the corner of the café. It was a sweet little place, Café Amor, and it was the kind of place where when you enter, you feel nostalgic even if nothing had happened.

The door finally swung open and a girl walked in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," said Ginny, breathlessly. Her cheeks were slightly red.

"No it's fine," said Hermione. Seeing Ginny, a familiar face, wiped away all the annoying feelings in an instant. Ginny hugged Hermione and kissed her on the cheek.

"So what's up? Why'd you want to see me so urgently?" she asked, big golden eyes wide. Hermione shifted uncomfortably. The red-head across from her was the closest girl friend she had but she didn't feel like plunging headlong into such a difficult topic so early. Thankfully, a waiter saved Hermione from saying a word.

"What would the pretty young lady like to drink?" he asked, winking at Ginny. Hermione rolled her eyes but she was used to this. She never would think that Ginny was anything but Ron's younger sister but she saw that lately, especially since last winter, guys had been giving a special attention to the youngest Weasely.

Ginny was an incredible flirt usually but today it was obvious that she had given her attention to Hermione and Hermione only.

"Ice coffee," she said briskly and turned away, dismissing him. As the waiter retreated, Ginny focused her eyes on the other girl once more and Hermione gave in, sighing.

"Do you know where I'm living right now?" she asked. Ginny frowned.

"With Ron?" the redhead guessed. Ron had moved out of the Burrow that summer claiming he was old enough to fend for himself. Perhaps he was; perhaps they all where. Even "little" Ginny Weasely was now almost seventeen herself. Hermione shook her head.

"With Harry and the Dursleys?" Alas, though, Harry was still stuck living with his near abusive aunt, uncle, and cousin. Hermione shook her head again.

"Ginny, you won't hate me if I say this, right?"

"Hermione, just spit it out."

"I'm living with Draco." The silence stretched between them as Ginny stared at Hermione with almost disbelieving eyes. Then, a slow smile started to creep onto her face.

"Good for you," she said softly. Hermione looked at her quizzically.

"Excuse me?"

"I said good for you, Hermione, Draco is sex god," said Ginny, licking her lips at the thought of him.

"Ginny," said Hermione, accusingly. "How could you think that, Ron hates him."

"But I'm not the one living with him," she said, devilishly. "But I wish I was." Her red lacquered lips curved up into a grin.

"Have you done anything yet?" she implored. Hermione felt her cheeks redden.

"No, it's not like that," she said hastily. Ginny's coppery eyebrows raised but she didn't question anymore. Hermione sighed and told the story for the second time and Ginny's eyebrows just kept rising.

"I feel like I should be giving him something in return," said Hermione, sadly. "He's done so much for me." Ginny flashed Hermione her devil in go-go boots smile again.

"Hermione," said Ginny slowly, stirring her coffee around. "What's the one thing that guys always want?"

"Sex," she immediately answered, then flushed crimson. She wished she hadn't said that. Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed Hermione's hands.

"Calm down," she told the older girl. "I'm not telling you to run back to his loft and just hand him your V-card. I'm just saying that you should give him some fun as a thank you. And just think, you'd get something out of it too. It doesn't _have_ to be sex you know. I mean, if you don't want to do it with him." Suddenly, Ginny's tawny eyes were searching Hermione's brown ones.

"You aren't still a virgin, are you?" asked Ginny. "I didn't…I didn't meant to put you up to something like this if you aren't. Don't let me pressure you into doing something you don't want to." Rather than looking mortified as any normal person would, Ginny just looked self-satisfied because she already knew the answer to this question…

"No," said Hermione, hotly. "I am _not_ still a virgin…" She clamped a hand over her mouth, realizing what she had implied.

"I knew it!" cried Ginny, gleefully. "That means you and…" Hermione squeaked and nodded.

"Oh. My. God," Ginny declared. "I can't believe you…"

"It was only a couple times, kind of like trial and error," said Hermione, hastily.

"You did it more than once!"

"Ginny, keep your voice down," said Hermione, cheeks flaming again.

"Well, then, this makes things a lot easier," said Ginny, grinning. "You're going to give the little sex god residing in his loft a treat." Hermione eyed Ginny warily.

"What sort of treat," she asked. Ginny grinned triumphantly.

"A lap dance."

Before Hermione could even protest saying she didn't know _how_ to lap dance, Ginny slapped some money down onto the table and dragged Hermione out. She pushed her into Victoria's Secret.

"I always loved this place," said Ginny, dreamily, as she pawed through some lacy underclothes. "It's full of more mystery than people know. That person over there might be buying that thong because she's going to do something bad tonight. Or she might just be buying it to avoid having any underwear lines."

"Nice to know Ginny," mumbled Hermione. Ginny looked at Hermione wickedly and picked out a couple of lacey tangas in black.

"Oh my god," whispered Hermione. "What's the point of even wearing these when you can see through them?" Ginny pushed a couple of black bras and a sheer slip into Hermione's hands and pushed her into a dressing room.

"Does it fit?" asked Ginny, through the door. Hermione started to change and put on the ridiculous outfit, if you could even call it that, and started to notice a transformation. When she was done, she didn't look like herself at all. Hermione stepped closer to the mirror, then stepped back again. She raised a hand and saw the girl in the reflection do the same. _Oh my god, I look like a slut_, thought Hermione. Then she grinned. _But it does look hot_.

And it_ did._ The lace tangas showed off her long, long legs, one benefit of being tall. Her almost willowy form looked curvy and the bra that Ginny had given her, had turned out to be a push up and made the most of her small breasts. She had turned into some sort of twisted goddess, dressed in black and lace ready to…ready to what? Well, Hermione didn't know yet.

She shed out of the dangerous articles of clothes and put on her normal ones and emerged. One look at her face and Ginny knew that Hermione was awed at the transforming power of black lace.

* * *

"Ginny, what is this place?" asked Hermione. They were in the lobby of what seemed to be a dance studio.

"Don't worry, I come here all the time for the aerobics. They watched a class through the large window. It was taught by a very hot man wearing a _very_ tight shirt and form flowing pants. He looked lean and muscular like an otter. The class, Hermione, didn't know what sort of dance class it was. It looked like a cross between yoga and a strip club.

"Is this actually a dance class?" muttered Hermione.

"Oh I love this class, it's so _hot_," said Ginny, eyes gleaming wickedly.

"Is it fun?" asked Hermione. Ginny's eyebrows raised suggestively as she made a whipping motion with her hand. Ginny pushed open the door and walked into the class, not caring that she was interrupting. Music was blaring but when the instructor saw Ginny walk in, he turned it off immediately.

"It's Ginger! Oh my god, you're so hot now!" the guy cried. He ran up and gave Ginny a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Ginny kissed him back.

"I love your hair," he said, admiringly. He touched one of the silky strands. Ginny's hair was not longer the fiery red, rather, it was pale copper, silky smooth and hanging to her waist in a sort of understated sexiness that Hermione herself would never achieve.

"Pablo! I see you're still doing your strip dancing," she said. Pablo sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"I've never seen a more promising student come after you, Ginger," he said, earnestly. "You're the best I've seen ever." Ginny giggled.

"You're too nice. Listen, my friend and I need a _private_ room. I have to teach her how to…" Ginny swished her hips a bit and pointed to a chair, grinning. Pablo shook his head.

"You are so _bad_ Ginger!" But he gave her a small room in the back.

"Have fun girls!" He closed the door behind him.

"Is he…?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, that's why I can trust him not to be slimy with me," said Ginny. She checked the c.d. player and nodded with approval at the c.d. in there.

"Perfect," she murmured. Hermione self-consciously stood while Ginny thought to herself.

"Okay, ready for this?" she asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Come on Hermione," Ginny urged. She started the music. A strong, sensual beat started to reverberate through the room and the rapping started.

"You need to move, okay? Like this." And Ginny demonstrated, hands on her knees, moving in a slow circle. Hermione tried for a couple seconds, then gave up.

"No, I feel dumb," she said. Ginny dragged out a chair and set it in the center of the room.

"Okay, imagine Draco sitting there shirtless, or listen to the what this rapper is saying. Just think about anything that turns you on okay?" Of course the first thing Hermione thought of was Draco.

"Got it?" asked the redhead. Hermione nodded, her mouth dry.

"Now just move, forget about how you look just close your eyes. I want you to concentrate on how it feels _everywhere_. Your mouth, your stomach, I mean everywhere. You want every part of your body to feel as if it's on fire. Good, _good_." Hermione ventured to open her eyes at Ginny's encouragement and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She didn't look stupid at all.

"Alright, now watch me and do what I do," she said. The smaller girl started to move slowly and run her hands down her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the ground. She got onto her hands and knees but continued to move her hips, her eyes almost predatory looking at some imaginary guy in front of her.

"You want him to know that you want him but you can't scare him," said Ginny, voice husky. So Hermione tried. She was nowhere near as _experienced_ as Ginny but she was good enough. Ginny taught her little tricks like running her finger between her breasts and throwing her hair back.

"Okay, now," said Ginny, seating herself at the chair. "Imagine I'm Draco. I need to see how you dance with someone to dance for." Hermione eyed the promiscuous redhead but finally obliged. Later, looking back, Hermione saw that as a mistake.

"No, you're not moving your hips enough!" was one of the many things her cruel teacher barked at her. "You need to make him think of SEX. Don't blush when I say that, you're seventeen for god sakes!"

"When'd you become such a hard to please teacher?" asked Hermione, sitting down, out of breath. Ginny smiled sweetly.

"Draco is going to go crazy over you," she said. And strangely enough…Hermione believed her.

* * *

"Draco," said Hermione. They were eating dinner with champagne and the bubbles were starting to go to her head. She decided to not bother with any dumb pick-up lines or subtly mentioning what she was going to do. She had always been a no-bull sort of person so here went nothing.

"I want to thank you for everything," she said. "And I want to show you my thanks. So I'm going to do something I've wanted to do for awhile." Draco looked up, surprised. Could she possibly mean what he thought she meant? No…he couldn't be _that_ lucky. Then Hermione pushed him back on the chair and pushed the table aside. Or was he…? Music started to play as Hermione let her hips swing from one way to another slowly, sensuously. She licked her lips in a way that would have definitely made Ginny proud.

"I want you," she whispered. Draco couldn't believe this was happening. He was going to wake up with a headache and dirty sheets soon. But no, this was reality…and he was going to enjoy every minute of this.

Hermione sidled up to him and got to her knees and they both knew what _that_ position was close to. She kept her eyes on him the whole time as she danced, running her hands down her legs, letting her hair fall in her face.

Finally, Draco couldn't stand just sitting there anymore. He leapt out of the chair and tumbled with Hermione on the ground. The still open champagne bottle spilled, covering them both with frothy sweetness. Draco kissed her so deeply that Hermione felt herself melting.

"Stay with me forever," she whispered.

"Always," he said, into her hair.


	8. Chapter Eight

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione sat up in bed and looked at Draco's figure

illuminated by the moonlight. His skin was so pale, it looked so thin

and fragile and silver. She was afraid that if she touched him, he was

give way but when she did, she was relieved to touch strong, warm skin.

Sitting there, watching Draco...it eerily echoed that night with Harry...her

first time...

* * *

_Flashback_

He looks beautiful like that, thought Hermione, as she

watched Harry sleep beside her. The blanket was strewn, leaving his

chest bare, muscular from Quidditch. His head was turned away from her

and his long dark lashes made half halos across his cheeks.

That was when Hermione panicked. She couldn't believe what

had happened. She had just turned seventeen and now losing her

virginity? Oh my god. What would her mom say? How could she even keep

something like this from her mom? Would she ever be able to touch a

unicorn again? Oh god oh god...

Hermione grabbed her clothes and put them on obscenely wrong

unintentionally, her shirt inside out, her skirt unbuttoned. Even the

hem had come undone and the skirt's hemline wasn't symmetric. Amazing.

Her hair was messier than usual and against her wishes, Harry woke up,

not surprisingly though, from all the racket she was making.

"Hermione," he murmured, frowning. He reached for his

glasses and put them on. "Where are you going?"

"Um..." Suddenly, Hermione was at lost for words. She just

muttered, stammered, sweated, and walked out, leaving a bewildered

Harry.

* * *

Hermione sighed thinking about that night. She had loved

Harry so much right then, it was too much for her to handle. She had had

to get out of that room; the room wasn't big enough to contain her love,

her emotion. She had run out by the lake and despite the time and the

temperature, she had taken off her shoes and waded in. The air felt cool

and her toes numbed at the water's touch.

That night she had seen one other person outside like her.

The moonlight had been glinting off his hair, probably a very light

blonde in the daylight, turned silver in the moonlight. He had obviously

been wading around in the water like her for he sat by the edge with his

pants rolled up, shirt thrown some distance away from him.

In her crazed state, Hermione had thought he was some sort of

fallen angel, banished to roam the world alone. The moonlight glinted

off his muscular body; he looked as though he was made of marble.

Hermione had watched him from a distance, knowing yet not wanting to

acknowledge the fact that she knew who he was.

Hermione looked back beside her at the sleeping form of

Draco. Although it had been awhile, her memories didn't lie. Draco

looked just as good as he had that night by the lake, with his gleaming

skin and glowing hair.

Hermione didn't run this time, not away from Draco, but she

did have to talk to Ginny. She put on one of Draco's shirts that reached

halfway down her thigh. God, he's so tall, thought Hermione, as she

padded out of the room. She picked up Draco's phone and punched in

Ginny's cell phone number. Hermione had given Ginny the phone for her

sweet sixteen birthday present but was always reminding her to turn it

off before she used any magic or got into her house or else it'd go

berserk. The red head had been surprisingly responsible and they had

avoided any mishap so far.

Hermione heard it ring five times and was tempted to turn it

off. She checked the clock and the time read 3:32. Maybe it was a

little too late (or early?) to call even Ginny who was a night owl.

Finally, someone answered.

"Hello?" Ginny murmured.

"Ginny, sorry did I wake you up?" Hermione felt apologetic.

She could have waited until the morning.

"Well, not exactly," she answered. Hermione could feel her

grin through the phone. That only meant one thing¡¦

"Oh my god, sorry Ginny, am I interrupting something?" she

asked hurriedly.

"No it's fine."

"No it's not fine!" said another teasing, laughing voice in

the background. Hermione froze. She counted to ten before she could

explode.

"GENEVRA WEASLEY!"

"Shut up, god I TOLD you to keep it quiet," Ginny said to the

other person.

"Let me talk to him Ginny, right now!" The redhead sighed

and handed the phone over to her companion.

"Hey Hermione, what's up?" said Harry. Hermione froze again.

"Harry!" she hissed. "Where the hell are you?"

"Um..." Hermione could hear Harry scratch his head in thought.

"Ron's house." Hermione exploded again.

"YOU''RE SLEEPING WITH GINNY AT RON'S HOUSE!"

"No! Well, kinda...yes..."

"God Harry! Tell Ginny I'm going to call her LATER when both

of you grow some brains!" Hermione turned off the phone with as much

gusto as she could muster and threw it across the room.

"Careful, that's a good phone," said a drawling voice from

the doorway. Hermione spun around and saw Draco's dark figure leaning

against the doorframe.

"So Harry finally got around to the little Weasley?" he said,

smirking. "I guess Weasley did grow up pretty nice." Hermione rolled

her eyes.

"And at Ron's house. I mean, what if Ron walked IN on them

or something?" fumed Hermione. Draco shrugged. He yawned and stretched,

his hands touching the top of the doorframe.

"Are you coming back to bed or what?" he asked. Hermione

considered. What the hell. Ginny and Harry were probably back at it.

Who said that they were the only ones allowed to have fun?

"How about a little treat, then some sunrise, then

breakfast?" he suggested. Hermione grinned.

"Sounds great."

* * *

Draco had led Hermione out onto his balcony overlooking the

city. They lounged together on a chair cocooned in blankets, watching

the golden ball rise and make its way higher and higher into the sky.

Hermione wondered why she felt none of the panic she had with

Harry. It must be a sign, she decided. A sign for what? Well, Hermione

wasn't quite sure of that. She wasn't quite sure of a lot of things

lately. She yawned as the sky around them turned a dusty pink. Draco

kissed her ear and then they both dozed off to sleep, dreaming of

sugar-spun clouds with silver linings.

"You seem hungry today," commented Draco. Hermione nodded as

she wolfed down another fluffy pancake dripping with syrup and butter.

"It tastes good today. Aren't you hungry from all that -hmm-

exercise last night" Draco just grinned with a hidden look in his eyes

and poured himself some more orange juice.

"Well, either way, I'm glad you're eating again." Hermione

stopped her ravenous eating for a minute to check on her vital stats, how

she was feeling. Stomach? Still growling a bit but a couple more

pancakes can take care of that. No queasiness or nausea.

"There's something special," said Hermione. "About being

here, with you. I'm not kidding. I haven't been able to keep much down

for three years but when I'm here it's like everything's okay again."

"That's because it is." After that they didn't say much more

but nothing more was needed to be said. Hermione poured two spoonfuls of

sugar into her black coffee and stirred it around and added cream. She

watched the white liquid blossom and bleed in her coffee, then stirred it

some more to make it milky. Draco kept his coffee black.

Hermione rested her chin on her knees and her mind wandered

back to that night at the club. She swore she knew who he was but she

couldn't remember. It was like an itch in her mind and it was driving

her crazy. She shrugged. She could deal with that when she met Ginny

and Harry at Hogwarts and they'll be able to compile a list of all the

muggle-born students that she knew. Ever the orderly personality, that

was the only way Hermione could make sure that something got done.

Thinking about Hogwarts brought her to another question.

"So what now, Draco?" asked Hermione. "Are we going to go

back to the way we were? When we go back to Hogwarts?" Draco shrugged

slightly, eyes looking distant. They finally came back to earth and

settled on Hermione's brown, velvet looking eyes.

"I don't know," he finally said.

"I want us to stay like we are," Hermione said, impulsively.

Then, just as spontaneously, Hermione reached over the table and put her

hand on top of Draco's. Draco's hand turned over and held hers and they

sat like that, each lost in their own thoughts.


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter Nine**

Hermione stood at the platform, feeling strangely lonely. So things went the way she knew they would and against her wishes. She and Draco had both decided to go back to the way they were.

"God Hermione, you know how I feel, but I can't. For your own safety," said Draco. He closed his eyes as though seeing her stand before him, eyes filling with tears, was too painful.

_"It's because of your _reputation_ isn't it?" Hermione spat out the word. _

_"No." Draco opened his eyes again. "I know you won't believe me but it's true. If the Slytherin boys _or_ girls find out about us, they'll hurt you Hermione. They don't like their own dealing with other people, especially Gryffindors." _

_"I know," said Hermione, softly. "It'll be the same way. Ron would have your throat if he knew." _

_"You know I love you, nothing will change that." _

_"Going back to school will." _

And with those final words, Hermione left Draco. It didn't work out the way either of them wanted it to. And Hermione knew, in spite of Draco's words, that he was terribly afraid for his reputation. But that was Hermione's problem, for getting involved with someone like him. Hermione shook her head. It was a summer thing and that's it. Deep inside, she wished desperately that it wasn't just a summer fling but she refused to acknowledge it.

"Oh my god, I told you it was her, Hermione!" someone called. She spun around to see Ginny, looking cheerful and adorable in a big sweatshirt, pleated skirt, and sneakers. She hurried over, earning several sidelong glances from several Hogwarts boys standing nearby. Behind her followed Harry with his trademark tousled hair and Ron wearing one of his mom's knitted maroon sweater.

"Hey, how are you?" Ginny's copper eyebrows knitted into a frown. "You don't look too good."

"Nice of you to notice," said Hermione, somewhat wearily in Ginny's opinion. Ginny tugged at Hermione's sleeve.

"How about having this train ride just you and me in a private compartment away from these monkeys?" she said soothingly. Hermione, grateful, nodded. She leaned her head on the other girl's shoulder, finally letting some of her sadness go.

Finally the Hogwarts Train arrived and was soon full of students. Ginny lead Hermione to a quiet compartment and they settled back for the long ride to Hogwarts.

"So," said Ginny. "Do you feel like telling me what happened?"

"Ginny," Hermione started. Her face started to screw up and turn red. Ginny had seen this transformation before and she knew it was when the older girl was about to cry.

"He said he wanted us to go back to the way we were." Ginny gently stroked other girl's hair.

"It's for your safety and who knows? Maybe for the better. But if it's meant to be, you will know that when you go to Hogwarts." Hermione was quiet for a long time but when she looked back up, Ginny could tell Hermione was trying to act as though everything was okay.

"How are things between you and Harry?" she asked, in a too "normal" voice. Ginny decided not to mention the fact that she knew Hermione was only acting.

"Pretty good," she said, lips curving up into a grin. Hermione's eyebrows rose, fleetingly forgetting about Draco.

"Don't give me your Virgin Mary look, Hermione, because we both know that you're not as innocent as you pretend." Hermione giggled which Ginny took as an opening to tell her all that she had missed that summer.

* * *

"Draco!" He spun around, hearing a vaguely familiar voice call his name. It was Pansy, looking considerably healthier, walking fast towards him. 

"Pansy?" Draco stood dumbfounded, unable to comprehend that she was back. Of course he had somewhat missed her, it was to be expected; they had grown up together. They lived in the same world.

Pansy threw her arms around Draco's neck and hugged him as he returned the gesture.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, eyeing her cautiously.

"Much better," she answered brightly. They were still pretty close though they called their relationship quits after Draco made Pansy go into counseling. She did look much better; she must have gained some weight.

"I know what happened," she whispered. Draco stiffened.

"What?"

"I know what happened between you and the Gryffindor girl. I'm sorry Draco, it's all my fault."

"What?" Draco's vocabulary seemed to have shrunken into one word.

"I left you," she said emphatically. "I left _you_ and you didn't know what to do, how to react. But it's okay now. I'm back and _you're_ back. Back home. In our world Draco."

"What world is that." His voice sounded dead in his own ears.

"Of magic and wealth, Draco. Haven't you heard our parents talking?" When he shook his head, Pansy looked at him curiously.

"You didn't hear our parents talking? At all?"

"I've been alone this summer, remember Pansy?" She seemed to take that as a reasonable excuse. Draco, on the other hand, knew what the talks were going to brew up to so he had left to live alone for a while, to escape his parents and their wild plans to trap him into their dream.

"Draco," said Pansy; a note of urgency laced her voice. "We're going to get married. Us. Together. The year we both turn twenty one." Draco's ears roared.

"Let's talk about this, when we get on the train," he said, tightly.

* * *

Ginny has finished her story about twin boys that she was dating at the same time, unwittingly. 

"But it was lucky, for me anyway. They were both adorable and real nice too. I swear for the longest time I thought he just had two names."

"God Ginny," said Hermione, laughing. The door to their compartment slid open.

"Harry? Ron? I thought I said that we wanted some privacy," snapped Ginny. It wasn't the boys, but _a_ boy, more specifically, _the_ boy. Draco frowned, a crease appearing on his forehead.

"Excuse us we didn't know there were people in this…" His voice trailed off as he saw Hermione behind Ginny.

"See you at Hogwarts," he mumbled and walked away, Pansy following close behind him. Hermione bit her lip but willed herself not to cry.

"I don't see what he sees in her. She still looks like a pug. Maybe Draco misses his pet dog at home," said Ginny, loudly. Hermione smiled in spite of herself.

"God Draco, you've gotten polite," Pansy commented. They finally found an empty compartment. "Just a year ago you would have thrown them out just so _you_ could have the compartment."

"I was immature. I've grown up. It's about time the Slytherins let go of all the tedious, petty rivalries with the Gryffindors. It's not going to solve anything anytime anyway." Pansy looked at him strangely but Draco didn't notice. He was too busy looking out the window, watching the scenery fly by, thinking about a certain brown-haired girl who was, at the exact moment, trying to forget about him.


	10. Chapter Ten

_Disclaimer: _All things Harry Potter related belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Love Sex and a Bottle Of Vodka**

**Chapter Ten**

Draco skipped the Sorting Hat ceremony (it gets old after six years of it) and started up to his room when fate stepped in.

"Mr. Malfoy," said a familiar voice. The voice that raised him as much as his father had. Draco looked up. As he suspected, it was the tall, ominous figure of Snape.

"Yes?" His fine blonde eyebrows rose.

"Report to Professor Dumbledore's office, he'll have some cheering news for you," he said. His hand absently ran through his hair, a habit that Draco had picked up from him.

"I knew you had it in you Draco," he said. "After you stopped pulling those childish pranks on Gryffindor I knew you'd be chosen." Draco, slowly catching on to Snape's words, bowed slightly, another habit that he'd yet to shed, and retreated into the shadows, following invisible footprints to Dumbledore's office.

Draco remembered back in fifth year when he had started a bit of a tumble between the Slytherin boys and though it had been a hoot, they all bailed on him and he had been the only one with detainment. He found himself in front of Dumbledore's "hidden" door and was let in.

"So Mr. Malfoy, I presume you know why I have brought you here," he said, surveying him over the tops of his glasses.

"More or less." Draco had learned far back that saying less was definitely more with Dumbledore. The more you said, the more he knew about you. Dumbledore walked around his desk, a shiny silver badge in his hand. He stood before Draco and still seemed to tower over the younger boy. Dumbledore fastened the badge onto Draco's robes. Despite his cool attitude, Draco felt a chill.

"Welcome Draco," said Dumbledore. "You are now Head Boy."

Draco smiled.

* * *

"Hermione," whispered Ginny urgently. She tugged at Hermione's robe sleeve. Hermione pressed her lips together and said as quietly as possible to not disturb the Sorting Hat ceremony,

"What is it?"

"McGonagall. She's been trying to catch your eye for the past five minutes. Go and see what's up." Cat-quiet, Hermione stood and made her way to the professor.

"Professor Dumbledore will like to see you, Ms. Granger. Don't give me that look, you know you're not in trouble." Still worried, Hermione walked down the empty hallway alone. Since when did Hogwarts get so chilly? She shivered slightly and rubbed her arms for warmth.

She entered into Dumbledore's office, which was thankfully warmer. Suddenly, the temperature dropped below zero. Further than that. Hermione was sure she could see her breath even though she had stopped breathing.

Dumbledore, truly oblivious to the tension or just pretending to be (no one would ever really know), said, half-smiling,

"Ms. Granger, Head Girl, meet your Head Boy Mr. Malfoy. I trust that there will be no petty rivalries between you two." His voice had a note of finality. Hermione reminded herself to breathe as her breath started to come and go in shaky gasps. Her vision started to twinkle then she dropped to the ground, resting her head on her knees. The last thing she saw was Draco and Dumbledore rushing to her as she finally, thankfully, let go of her consciousness.

* * *

"You poor thing." Hermione groggily opened up her eyes and found that she had trouble moving. She was lying on one of the infirmary beds and judging from the dark of the sky outside the window, it was still that night. She turned her glance to the side to find Madame Pomfrey mixing up something that smelled like the devil.

"I say they just give the students too much excitement around here," she continued. "Oh and Mr. Malfoy took your bags up to the Head Room quarters where the two of you will be staying so no need to worry about that." Hermione smiled weakly when Madame Pomfrey turned her way, but that smile was so ephemeral that the minute the nurse looked away, the expression turned into a look of horror.

Madame Pomfrey catching that look, mistaking the reason of the look for the potion she was mixing, she laughed.

"Dear, let me assure you that there are many things that taste much worse." After Hermione had swallowed the terrible mixture, which had the weirdest taste of frogs and lemon pound cake, she felt right enough to stand up and be led to the Head Room quarters.

It was a richly decorated room with a common room, full of draperies and a warm fireplace. The floor was covered in a plush carpet and there were sofas and chairs made of velvet, satin, and silk. On opposite walls were doors, where each led to a private bedroom. There she found her demon, lounging on a satin chair. He stumbled to his feet, eyes shining with worry.

"Hi," said Draco, softly. Hermione turned away.

"Not today, Draco." She made her way to one of the doors. Draco caught her arm.

"Hermione," he said, looking into her eyes. She couldn't look away even if she tried. Her head was still hurting and she didn't want to deal with Draco right now.

"I'm a coward and an idiot for losing a girl like you. I could never get someone like you and when I did, I lost you. Even with you here and me holding onto you, you're not a part of me anymore." What was this supposed to be? Some sort of _apology? _A justification? Hermione started to feel her anger fire up again. What was his problem? At least if he was going to break up with her, god they hadn't even gone out, then he could have left her alone.

"I wanted to be," she whispered fiercely. "I wanted to but you pushed me away."

"I know that!" His angry cry seemed to falter then hold clear in the small space of air that separated them. Hermione wrenched her arm out of Draco's grip. She was so angry that she was practically shaking.

"You lost me Draco," she said, then walked away and slammed her door. Draco stood there, staring at the empty space where Hermione had stood just seconds earlier.

Hermione waited on the other side of the door, listening as Draco slammed his door, an echo of her own.

* * *

"A head girl? That's amazing Hermione," said Ron. "As if we never saw it coming." Hermione punched him in the arm. It was dinner the next day and Hermione had been meaning to tell them all day but the day had been packed with back to school activities. Ginny was nowhere to be found, probably staying after Potions class, her worst subject.

"But what about Harry?" he continued. "I thought for sure he'd be Head Boy." Harry was no less awkward than he had been seven years earlier. But his bed messy hair and lithe body had become an accidental poster boy image. He stuck out his neck in that uncomfortable way of his and bit his bottom, pouty lip. Hermione had to admit that Harry had grown up well.

"I didn't want it," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Besides, I think they wanted variety. Besides, two head members from one house? That'd be an outrage to all the other houses." He picked at his food and chewed carefully on a piece of chicken, to avoid any more questions from Ron. So the redhead turned his attention back onto Hermione.

"So who's the Head Boy, Hermione?" asked Ron. "Who's better than our Harry?" Hermione broke the carrot that she was holding in half accidentally. She flushed a deep red, hoping that it was unnoticeable in the candlelight of the dinner.

"I don't know yet," she said smoothly. It sounded authentic. Well it should since she spent all night practicing it. She could tell that Ron was going to ask her more questions but before he could, Harry jumped in, sensing Hermione's discomfort a little better than Ron could.

"So how are the living quarters? Better than the prefect ones?" Hermione could deal with these questions and think about Draco later.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said.

"Actually I would," said Ron, playfully although the comment was directed at Harry. "Why don't we have a little rendezvous tonight, eh?" Hermione punched him in the arm for the second time.

"Get a life Ron," she said. Ron looked at Harry but he was still his quiet self, munching on food.

"What classes do you guys have?" asked Hermione, boldly changing the subject. Ron and Harry groaned.

"We still have Divination," said Harry. He gestured to his schedule that was half hanging out of his book bag.

"It's a riot though," Ron said, laughing slightly to himself.

"We've still got double potions with Slytherin, right" asked Hermione.

"Why are you asking? You usually have the schedule memorized by the second class. I hope we don't though, I hate those smug Slytherins," said Ron, his face screwing up in to a scowl.

"Yeah, don't we all," said Hermione. Her thoughts started to float away.

* * *

"Draco!" Draco groaned inwardly and let himself be cornered by Pansy. There was a reason he took these solitary night walks and it wasn't because he enjoyed the cold damp corridors of the dungeons of Hogwarts.

"I've been looking for you everywhere."

"I bet," he muttered.

"Draco, this is serious. I thought you ended it with the Gryffindor girl."

"I didn't _end_ anything because nothing started," he said.

"Well that's not what I heard Draco. I heard you were already in that Gryffindor slut's bed last night. The one that's the Head Girl?" Her expression only held worry but that annoyed Draco even more than her words did.

"Well you heard wrong, Pansy. Like you usually do. Nothing happened and nothing is _going_ to happen, I know that for sure. Besides, why would you care?"

"Draco, our parents. They're not only going to kill you if they find out you've been misbehaving. It's my fault too. They'll say that it's my fault and I should have kept a closer watch on you." This was true. Pansy would get the equal blame. So there's a drawback to everything, even being engaged to Draco.

"Pansy, we're not getting married. No one's going to force us."

"Our _parents_ can make us Draco." Her eyes were filled with a terrible love for Draco.

"And I will," she whispered. "I will make us. I will make you in love with me."

To that Draco chuckled harshly. Hot, frustrated tears started to fall from Pansy's eyes.

"I don't fall in love Pansy. There's no such thing as love and I was _personally_ taught that lesson this summer." Pansy's eyes turned hard.

"Don't worry Draco, you'll fall in love. You will love me. I will make you and you _will._" Draco stared at her. The emotions that were crashing in her eyes were scary. He couldn't deal with this. Not now and not ever. He would sooner slit his own wrists than marry Pansy.

"Later," he said and walked away, leaving Pansy to be enveloped in the darkness of the stone corridors.


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Disclaimer_: All things Harry Potter related belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter Eleven**

Draco finally stumbled into his room and found Hermione reading by the fireplace. It was such a typical Hermione image that Draco couldn't help smiling slightly as he watched her for a while. She was so different from Pansy; sure they were similar in some obscure ways like their eating habits maybe, but Hermione was sweet and pure and smart. He couldn't believe he could have possibly lost that all. She was everything he was not and that's why he wanted her so bad.

"Hermione?" he ventured. He held his breath as finally, Hermione looked up.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Her voice wasn't even bitter or angry; it just sounded like it used to, back when he was still Malfoy and she was still a mudblood. Before this summer. She sounded weary, as though she knew that talking to _him_ would only end in insults, like it used to.

Somehow, that hurt a lot more than when she had yelled at him. It hurt way more than when he felt as though he was forced to tell her that they had to end what they had, whatever it was. It hurt that she seemed to have completely forgotten what had happened, as though the last three months were suddenly erased and the most important summer of Draco's life was obviously not the most important in Hermione's.

"Nothing," Draco finally said. "Nothing, sorry I bothered you." He walked away, head and shoulders down, in a complete picture of misery, very unlike Draco. Hermione couldn't help watching him disappear through the door and feeling a little bit sorry for him. No, more than that. But she felt more sorry for herself. Although she knew it was incredibly immature to be wallowing in self-pity, that's exactly what she was doing right now.

She looked down at what she was reading, _The Stranger_. It wasn't exactly the best book to make her smile.

"You're a smart one, Meursault. Don't love and don't hurt." Hermione thought about it for a minute then threw the book across the room.

"God, I love you Draco," she whispered. "I never stopped."

From the other side of the door, Draco was laying on his bed, staring gloomily at the ceiling. He heard Hermione throwing something and pulled the covers over his head. His heart felt heavy and he felt vulnerable, as though open to anyone to attack him. He sighed and succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Draco had skipped dinner to stand outside one of Hogwart's many balconies. This particular one overlooked the lake, which looked much too serene. The whole night seemed surreal and there were two moons that night, one in the sky and one cradled in the watery folds of the lake.

He sat on the balcony railing, legs propped in front of him. He toyed with the cigarette in his hand. He wasn't an idiot and he knew that smoking was bad for him. Finally Draco just let them fall one by one all the way down to the ground until the pack was empty. Then he let go of the empty pack too. He tried to listen for when they hit the ground but couldn't hear.

"So here you are, Draco." Draco already knew who it was without turning his head to the doorway.

"Hello Pansy," he said casually, although now he was wishing maybe he should have kept one of those cigarettes.

"You made me look around for you," she said, with a pout on her face. It went to waste, however, the "endearing" look that she had obviously practiced in front of a mirror for Draco merely kept his head tilted up at the moon. Pansy pulled out a cigarette herself and lit the end with her wand. As she held one in her mouth, she lit another one and handed it over to Draco. He took a long drag and blew a stream of smoke above his head.

"Jesus Pansy, what do you want." He finally said, a statement, not a question. Pansy was quiet for a while then spoke.

"Do you really hate me that much," she finally said. "Do you think I'm a slutty bitch like everyone else? That I only care about what I look like and how many guys I can sleep with?" Pansy was wishing so hard that Draco would say no, of course not, how could she say that. Then get off that railing and walk over to her and hold her shoulders in his large hands and kiss her like he used to. Now that she thought about it, even his kisses were as cold and unfeeling as his steely eyes were right now.

"I don't think Pansy," said Draco. "I know." Pansy shut her eyes tightly as tears started to make their way down her face.

"Why won't you just marry me when we're twenty-one, like we're supposed to?" She looked at him pathetically. "I won't care if it's a lie, just let me be with you, please?" Draco still didn't turn to face her. Pansy was so frustrated she was close to just pushing Draco off the railing.

"You know I really love you Draco, it's not about status and money when it's me," said Pansy. "You'll do better with me than any other money grabbing whore that pretends to love you." Pansy leaned against the railing and looked at the lake. She and Draco had gone swimming in the night there a couple years ago; she still enjoyed the memory. She thought it really was love on his part as well.

"You can learn to love, at least to live with, please, I promise whatever you want me to be I'll be that person." Still Draco didn't speak.

"God, please Draco, say _something_," Pansy cried. She was crying openly now, no use in trying to hide it. Draco took a deep drag and blew a stream of smoke right into Pansy's face.

"Throw this away on your way out." Draco crushed the tip of the cigarette with his fingers, burning the skin. He tossed the cigarette butt at Pansy's feet. Pansy sunk to her knees and sobbed. Draco rolled his eyes. He hated it when she flew into hysterics. Finally, she collected herself and walked out, head held high. In their world, you had to leave with dignity although what little Pansy had she had lost with her crying fit.

Draco sighed with what felt like the most happiness he had felt that week although it was a small amount. With all this shittiness going around, he was starting to appreciate the little things more, like silence for one thing.

Now who would be crazy enough to go wading into the lake at this hour? If Draco focused his eyes just enough he would be able to see who the person was easily, even though he was quite far off the ground and it was dark. But he didn't want to. He didn't even want to think about that person right now. He didn't want to know that the person was a girl and that she had brown hair that used to be quite bushy. Or that she was a hard worker and always determined to win. Or that they had brutally stomped all over each other's hearts.

This whole thing, this fight, was ridiculous and Draco knew that. But right now, he decided to not know who that person was down there in the lake. He decided that he didn't quite want to think about jumping off the railing and landing on the ground and running, even with two broken legs, to her and grabbing her and holding her so tight and never letting go. He wanted to forget about all of this and he just silently watched as the person down by the lake grew anonymous, just another figure, and watched her hold up her robes and splash around in the lake, in the moonlight.

* * *

Hermione braced herself against the cold as she stepped into the water. She enjoyed the refreshing lap of the water against her ankles. This was nice. She didn't need any guys to tie her down and try to control her anyway. She was fine on her own.

Hermione tilted her head to the sky, feeling the soft light of the moon on her face. Despite the extreme sereneness of the setting, Hermione still couldn't relax. She started remembering the last time she had come to the lake at night. When she had seen Draco. She didn't want to think about him right now.

Hermione bit her lip and looked away and back up to the castle. Her eyes roamed Hogwarts until she saw him. Sitting up there on the railing of one of the many balconies. Was he looking at her? She couldn't tell in this light. Finally she sighed and turned back to the water and waded into her knees. When she looked back, she saw that Draco was gone. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed him. And she wanted him back.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer**: I don't own

* * *

**Love, Sex and a Bottle of Vodka**

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Hermione walked out of her dorm for what seemed like the first time in many days. She had been holed up in her room, even ignoring the protests of Ginny. She needed to get her mind off of Draco and piece her own life back together and that was precisely what she was doing.

She would wake up in the morning around six when the dining hall first opened to have a cup of coffee or tea and a warm, filling breakfast. It had been awhile since she herself was in charge of her eating habits, with Draco now out of the picture, and Hermione was quite pleased at her responsibility. She hadn't let herself fall into the same cycle of picking at food and counting calories. She took it as a sign that she was a stronger person now and had no need for people like Draco tying her down. Or so she told herself.

Afterwards she would head back to her dorm to study and come out only for classes. She'd take lunches and dinners back to her room, to avoid Ginny, Harry, and Ron. Then, very late, around midnight, she would stretch and pad down to the private Head Girl bathroom and take a luxurious bath with lavender, chamomile, and rose scented soaps. Finally, she would slip into her silky covers and fall asleep, pleased. She had become a girl of simple pleasures, finding joy in small things since larger things, more specifically a certain person, had let her down.

But finally, Hermione was leaving the dorm for dinner. She had forgotten to bring something up earlier, before the herds of students filled the hall. Hermione chastised herself although deep down she really knew that she had purposefully forgotten to take dinner to her room. Quite honestly, she was getting lonely. As much of a bookworm as she was, Hermione still had friends and missed them. She refused to let that…that _Slytherin_ turn her into a hermit.

So purposefully and confidently, Hermione walked into the dining hall, her eyes gazing expertly, sorting through the crowd. She finally caught the sight of Ginny's coppery hair, mingling with Harry's shaggy black hair. Across from them sat a disgruntled Ron; obviously he had become the butt of yet another joke. Dean and Parvati seemed to be joining them and now seemed like a good as time as any to join the crowd also.

Ron dropped his fork when he saw Hermione and it made a loud clatter that was quickly consumed by other noises in the dining hall. Ginny, more composed, leapt up and pushed Harry to make room for Hermione. Looking a partly miffed and partly happy to see Hermione, Harry obliged.

"And we thought you died in that damn dorm room of yours," Ron declared. "How nice is it that you spend every waking hour in there?"

"I just had work to do," Hermione sniffed.

"We've barely seen you, Hermione. In fact, the last time we've seen you was at the train station. You're always rushing to class and it's not like we're even in a lot of classes with you," Harry said, seriously. Of course, he was always serious with his solemn eyes. They used to be bright and animated but over the years, they had dimmed and matured with things that people should never have to see.

"Well, if either of you actually studied then maybe we could have shared some classes," Hermione said, grinning. Harry smiled back, the expression looking a little foreign on his face.

"Yeah right, and become a big bookwork nerd like you?" asked Ron. Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at Hermione, coppery eyebrows raised in an annoyed yet mischievous expression that Hermione would have felt dumb trying to copy in front of a bathroom mirror.

"Ron's just annoyed that the love of his life decided that books were sexier than him."

"Gin!" The tips of Ron's ears turned scarlet.

"Oh grow up, Ron. It was a joke." Hermione listened to her friends banter in their familiar way and soaked up the atmosphere with a smile. She felt as though she was being watched, however, so she craned her head slightly to the right and saw herself face to face with Dean.

"Hi Dean," she said, pleasantly. She looked down and her eyes snagged on a gleam of silver at his wrist.

"That's cool, what is it?" Hermione didn't venture to say "cute" in case it offended his masculinity but it really was cute. It was a silver I.D. bracelet that encircled his wrist with the initials _P.P._ and a small ruby on the nameplate.

"Parvati?" The other girl seemed to smile shyly, which was a rarity for the often snippy, sharp-tongued girl. Parvati leaned in close so only Hermione could hear.

"I asked him out you know, in July when we ran into each other at Diagon Alley. Well, I mean, it was just for ice cream then because oh it was so nice to see a familiar face that wasn't Padma's. She is driving me _insane_. If you see her, don't talk to her." It wasn't really a secret to anyone that despite being twins, Parvati and Padma _did not_ get along.

"So anyway, I just wanted _out_ of the house, away from Padma. Such a scum bitch," she hissed. Hermione waited patiently. "But one date led to another and we just spent the rest of summer together." Hermione bit her lip.

"Right. Well, that's romantic," said Hermione. "Basically you're going out with Dean because you hated you sister."

"Yeah," Parvati sighed and looked at Dean with a look in her eyes that Hermione would only describe as…smoldering. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're really something." But Parvati didn't hear. "I'm going to go get more food." Hermione excused herself and left but heard footsteps behind her. Figuring it'd be Ginny, Hermione turned around, saying, "If somebody doesn't do anything about Parvati, I am going to scream."

"I know, she can be a pain in the ass," said Dean. Hermione made a physical effort to make sure her jaw didn't drop open.

"Right. Sorry. You didn't just hear that." She leaned against the wall and groaned. Dean chuckled.

"No, I don't mind. We actually aren't really going out. She just likes to say that we are. We just met a couple of times for snacks and maybe a lunch but that's it. She gave this to me on the train over here and I figured it'd be rude not to wear it…" His voice trailed off and his eyes held a strange expression. Hermione couldn't quite interpret it. Was that…hope? Hope? Hope for what?

"Right…but that's not very nice, Dean," she chastised. "You shouldn't lead her on."

"I've tried telling her, believe me," he said, pushing his thick brown hair away from his face. Hermione tried not to notice that he had grown much taller over summer and was wearing excellent jeans underneath his robes.

"I guess I'm sorry then," she said, offering a wry grin.

"Nah, I guess it's just tough because there's someone that I like." Hermione's ears perked up. Although Ginny was the avid gossiper between the two, Hermione wouldn't deny that she enjoyed other people's secrets as well.

"Well then how are you going to get with that person if you're wearing a bracelet with Parvati's initials on it?" she said. Dean smiled crookedly and again Hermione was trying to tell herself that she wasn't dangerously close to flirting with him.

"I guess I'm just hoping that she knows," he said. "But it doesn't matter. She won't go for me."

"Where's that predictable male ego?" she joked. But the resigned look on Dean's face remained. Hermione wasn't very good at words of comfort to people that she wasn't particularly close to. Instead, she picked up a muffin.

"Do you want one? On me okay?" Although Dean didn't answer, Hermione picked up another muffin and tossed it at Dean.

"Come on; let's go back before Ginny rips Parvati's head off." That perked a grin from Dean.

"I wish she would," he said, as they walked through the throngs of students. When Hermione caught sight of Parvati animatedly chatting, probably saying nasty things about her "ex-best friend and slut wench Lavender" and Ginny rolling her eyes, she muttered, "me too."

* * *

Draco forced himself awake and ran a hand through his messy, flaxen hair. He pulled on yesterday's Oxford shirt and a gray sweater vest over it. He was so disoriented that he even pulled on the gray flannel pants that his mom made him get. He pulled the robe off of the floor and put it on, trying to smooth the wrinkles as he pulled his books together.

He tore through the halls, checking his watch and swearing periodically. He pulled himself into McGonagall's class just thirty seconds late and grabbed an empty seat by the door. When he entered, the girls started to titter and point. More than one threw a sultry look in his direction, all of which Draco ignored.

"Aw look at him!" a Slytherin squealed to her friend. "He looks so sweet with his hair all messy."

"He probably did it on purpose," a disgruntled, male classmate said. "He probably filed his fingernails too." Despite his words, the jealous friend made note to buy gray pants like Draco's next time his mom forced him to go shopping.

Draco was used to the hushed talking around him. He also knew that it was in equal parts fawning over him and hating him and he was used to it. He enjoyed the spiteful comments more. They amused him whereas the compliments nauseated him. When McGonagall glared at him, Draco suddenly remembered the half finished assignment still sitting up in his room.

When her back was turned, Pansy, who Draco had unwittingly sat down right next to, palmed him the finished assignment which Draco turned in. McGonagall turned to Pansy.

"Ms. Parkinson? Where is your assignment?"

"I forgot to do it," she said, looking defiantly at the professor just like how she should. Slytherins were never ashamed of doing something wrong. Had she acted so, it would have been more of a give-away that she was covering for Draco. Draco scowled. The last thing he needed was to be indebt to Pansy.

"Wait a minute, Professor McGonagall?" She turned to Draco with an irritated expression that only said, "Can't you see I'm busy terrorizing a student?"

"I turned in Pansy's assignment. She's covering for me." McGonagall's eyebrows rose to her hairline. Something about Draco convinced her that he was telling the truth. Honestly, would Draco Malfoy ever take the blame for anyone? Either the boy has gone mad or he's finally cultivating a conscience, about goddamn time too.

"Okay then, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points from Slytherin for not doing the assignment, another ten for turning in Pansy's." She turned on Pansy. "And ten more for trying to cover for Mr. Malfoy's less than admirable actions." Draco almost grinned. Every year McGonagall seemed to turn more into a female version of Snape and it was amusing.

When the class ended, Draco ignored the blatant signals that Pansy was sending him and left the room. He would pay for that later but for now, he honestly couldn't deal with Pansy until he got at least a good cup of coffee.

Draco did pay for it, during dinner. He sat down at a quiet table. He was sick of being surrounded by friends like Crabbe and Goyle who, between the two, had a vocabulary that consisted of fifteen words. He was sick of simpering girls who held onto his words and arms and hopeful guys who stuck to him like moths to a light, thinking maybe they would get lucky if they stuck to Draco.

For awhile, he was alone. He felt removed from the hectic dining hall and was calm. That is, until Pansy set her dinner tray across from him and sat down.

"Why didn't you just take my homework? It would have had your handwriting on it if you hadn't confessed. You didn't seriously think I was stupid enough to hand in two rolls of parchment with my handwriting and your name, did you?"

"I didn't take it because I didn't want to be in debt to you. I don't want anything to do with you," Draco said, staring at his food. He imagined the knife glimmering in the light, being jammed into his throat.

"Why not, Draco? You can't fight what's going to happen."

"No, you're wrong. I might not be able to make a difference but I'll fucking fight every step of the way, right down the wedding isle."

"Why are you doing this, Draco? We were okay, once."

"I can't…we can't be _anything_ Pansy, not while you keep putting me on this pedestal as some _accessory_ to show off to your friends. And I'm not interested. I can't love you because I have none to give." Draco knew all of this, even before he fell for Hermione.

Pansy knew that this was her cue to step out of Draco's life for awhile. He had to remember how they used to be. How they used to fall asleep together in one of their parents' silken beds or how they'd spend vacations together, may it be surfing in Hawaii or shopping in Europe. She'd wait and he'll eventually come back, if not for those things then for the simple fact that they will get married. Their parents had more control over their lives than anyone else. Once they decide something, it may as well be set in stone.

"Goodbye Draco." Pansy walked away with the knowledge that she'd be walking back in a few months' time. Draco watched her leave and swore a vow that if he was to be forced down that isle next to Pansy, he would do whatever it takes, sever his tongue, kill his parents, _anything_ to make sure that he would not end up at Pansy's husband. The thought left an acrid, metallic taste in his mouth that no amount of water could wash away.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_Disclaimer: _I don't own.

**:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:**

**:Chapter Thirteen:**

Through Ginny's insistence and her own curiosity and, quite frankly, a deep desire to be in the social flurry of Hogwarts again, Hermione found herself accepting Dean's proposal for a date. Hermione found a bit of silly fluttering in her stomach and heart and she wondered perhaps if it was because it was strange to be going on a date again, or if it was because she had always thought Dean fancied the Patil twins, whom he had loudly said were the best looking girls in their year. Well okay, so that was all the way back in fifth year but still, it _was_ still only two years ago.

"Hermione, you are being silly and if you don't calm down and just go on this date, you'll regret it," said Ginny. She was lounging on the luxe bed, appreciating the four-poster king sized bed with silk and velvet pillows and covers, in the traditional Gryffindor colors.

"I can't believe you have such a large bed," Ginny muttered, bouncing up and down a bit. "This is bigger than the Burrow." Hermione laughed. The financial situation of the Weasleys were looking up; Fred and George's joke shop had been a hit and now they were considering opening up to three more stores in various parts of the wizarding world. They were hardly in the situation to be buying second-hand clothing anymore but Ginny still found it amusing to joke about it.

"Shut up, you know it isn't. I still don't know about this," Hermione said, silently criticizing each square inch of her body, in front of the gilded framed mirror. Ginny rolled over onto her stomach. Hermione looked back at the redhead.

"Why don't _I_ have any clothes like that?" Ginny was wearing a soft sweater, skirt, and thigh-high socks with fat stripes. Her legs were so skinny that they bagged a little but it worked for her. Hermione swore the little Weasley was wearing garters. She asked her.

"Of course," she said, her mouth curving into a smile. "I swear, I tried them the other day and it was so much fun. It's not like it's weird or anything; no one can see them. And my socks would fall down without them." Hermione grinned.

"Right; whatever you say."

"God, you're lucky Dean's muggle-raised. Imagine going out in robes." Ginny's nose wrinkled ever so slightly.

"And if you didn't have me, you would still be blissfully ignorant and prancing around in robes as well," Hermione said, distractedly, digging through her wardrobe. Did she own _anything_ that wasn't scrubby or prim?

"It's a scary thought. Ron still refuses to dress in anything but robes and it's awful. Even _Harry's_ tried to get him to wear something normal."

"Ginny, I can't find _anything_." Hermione knew she was whining but she couldn't help it. Dean was going to meet her at the Great Hall in _twenty minute_ and all she's done was take a shower. Her hair was piled on her head in what resembled a wet mop and her body was wrapped up in a fluffy bathrobe. All Ginny had done was lounge on the bed, eat chocolates, and in the process, look infuriatingly cute and put-together.

Ginny slipped her socked feet into slippers and padded over to stand next to Hermione. She dug through Hermione's clothes, expertly flicking through piles of shirts and pants.

"Why can't I be small like you?" Hermione said. Ginny only came up to Hermione's chin.

"What, and be half-midget? You're the perfect height, Hermione. And you're all legs on top of that. So if you will please _stop_ wallowing in self-pity and try this on?" Hermione took a dubious look at what Ginny had picked out but her expression cleared. It was a pair of dark jeans, nice enough to wear out, that Hermione remembered splurging on once when shopping with none other than Ginny. In her other hand was a silky, shimmery shirt that Hermione didn't know she had. It was perfect. It was casual enough for a date in Hogsmeade and dressy enough to not look like a slob.

As Hermione dressed, Ginny hunted through more of Hermione's things and came up, triumphantly, with a pair of black, sling back heels.

"Did I know you had these?" she demanded.

"You can borrow them if you want. In fact, you should have them after I wear them this time. You deserve them."

"Nah, not when they look good on you."

"I'm going to be late. You know you just saved my life, right?" Ginny laughed.

"Yeah. You're hopeless, Hermione." When Hermione turned to leave, Ginny suddenly gasped as though she remembered something.

"No, no wait." She pressed a small tube of petal-pink lipstick into Hermione's hand. "Just so you don't look washed out. I'm going to stay here, okay? Your room's so much nicer than mine."

"But I'll be back soon," Hermione reminded her. "No sneaking Harry in here." Ginny blinked innocently.

"Who says you'll be back so soon?"

"Not everyone's promiscuous like you, Ginny." Ginny snorted.

"Hurry up and go. And don't forget to tell me everything, don't you dare leave a single detail out."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dean was waiting for her and Hermione felt a little stir again when she saw him. He looked nice. He was the polar opposite of Draco and she didn't mind at all.

"Hey ready to go?" he asked. For a second he almost looked like he as going to offer her his arm. Hogwarts has a way of bringing out the chivalric traditions in people. Maybe it has something to do with the parchment and quills. At the end, they settled on just walking, their hands dangling some few inches from the other's.

Dean had made reservations at a small but nice Italian restaurant in Hogsmeade. When Hermione asked Professor McGonagall if the Head Girl's privilege of going to Hogsmeade whenever they wished outside of school hours extended to one guest. Professor McGonagall responded with a yes and Hermione swore she saw a slight wink from the usually stern teacher.

Hermione and Dean walked in silence in the crisp, fall night air to Hogsmeade but when they got to the restaurant, the conversation, unfortunately, was horribly strained until the food came out.

It was only after they had milled around outside, admiring little displays in store windows, that they settled into an idle chatter.

"Look at that. It makes me wish it was Christmas," Hermione said. Her nose was cold but the jacket she had thrown on proved to do its job. She was pointing to a display of a miniature castle, complete with toy swans in the moat and a little princess that came to wave a handkerchief out a window every twenty seconds. Hermione could see inside the windows little rooms that brought to mind comfort. She suspected it was magic that made the fireworks above the toy castle explode continuously.

"It is nice," Dean admitted. "But, it doesn't really do anything, does it?"

"It doesn't have to _do_ anything. It's just nice to look at," Hermione said, smiling as she gave the castle one last look. They kept walking, away from the village, up a hill where it felt as though they were the only people left on the world. 

"I think this is better," Dean said, appreciatively. "Look at how many stars there are." His hand reached for Hermione's but, feeling only slightly guilty, Hermione drew her hand back.

"Um, Dean? I don't want to, I mean, it's just that, we started this...meeting as friends, and I was thinking maybe that's just how it should end too." Dean gave her a sidelong glance. Hermione opened her mouth to further explain but Dean stopped her.

"No, I understand, I can take a hint." He gave her a crooked smile and turned his back to her, looking at the sky. Hermione came up next to him.

"Hey, let's jump." Hermione looked at Dean with disbelief. She couldn't read in her voice whether he was serious or not. The other side of the hill ended abruptly and all Hermione could make out was a couple of rocks on the bottom. It would mean a broken ankle if she fell legs first, a broken neck if she fell head first.

"Dean?"

"It's just that, Hermione..." It sounded like the beginning of a confession that Hermione didn't want to hear.

"You know what, never mind, I was being weird. Just, forget it." Dean turned around but doing so, his foot slipped on a rock and he stumbled backward. Hermione rushed forward to catch him but the rocks studding the grass proved to be slippery and she felt her own heel get wedged in between two rocks and her ankle twist. Stumbling, she suddenly realized she had pitched forward and despite Dean's desperate attempts to grab her arm, she went careening over the side of the hill.

The last thing she thought, as the infinite blackness that was rushing around her entered her eyes to cover her mind, was to scream out for Draco but when she was gone before she could open her mouth.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco frowned. Something felt extremely uneasy in his mind. His stomach started to drop as though he was falling. He jumped out of his chair and looked around for something that he could not see. Hermione. Was it Hermione? Was she hurt?

He was running towards her room when Ginny came out. They both stared at each other, like a mirror. The same expression was plastered on both their pale faces: eyes wide and mouths open.

"Did you feel that too?" Ginny demanded. "What happened?" Draco shook his head and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"I don't know. But it's-"

"Hermione," Ginny finished. They only stood there for another second but it felt like an eternity. Then they started at a run for the infirmary. When they burst out into the hallway, they found Harry and Ron running towards them.

"What the hell is going on?" Ron asked. He looked frazzled and Harry was swaying and looked faint. The sickening sensation did not stop. Their hearts pounded as their stomach dropped out mercilessly and their ears roared. Harry put a hand out to the wall to steady himself.

"We think it's Hermione. Something's happened," Draco said. A quick alliance had been formed without anyone's notice, between the Gryffindors and the Slytherin. Even Ron didn't think to question why on earth Draco would be having the same nauseating experience as the Gryffindors.

"Why? I mean, how? Magic doesn't denote an ESP connection," Harry said. Sweat gleamed on his brow as though pearl had melted over his skin.

"I know but maybe, maybe her raw need had somehow caused this...disturbance." Draco was so worried that he was fumbling over his words.

"What happened to her?" The scared whisper had come from Ginny. Then they all took off again, to the infirmary. When they got there, they found an ashen Dean.

"Hi Dean...Dean!" Ginny jumped at seeing him there. "Where's Hermione?" Dean was shaking and explaining in halts and leaps and finally the story spilled out. They had gone for a walk up a hill in Hogsmeade. He had stumbled and trying to steady him, Hermione's foot got caught and she fell forward over the edge.

Hogwarts infirmary's emergency group had already gone to get her. Dean had tried to climb down himself but it was too steep.

When the little gold bell started to shriek, signifying anyone to clear the way for an emergency vehicle, the group held their breath. It was almost like a Muggle emergency van. If it hadn't been a serious situation, they might have been amused by it. But it was a serious situation and no one was in the mood to be amused.

The emergency vehicle was like a van but instead of wheels, it rested on brooms and it soared through the hallways, screeching to a halt at the infirmary where Madame Pomfrey quickly took over. People carried a stretcher that held Hermione and they brought her to a waiting bed where Madame Pomfrey expertly mixed elixirs.

"Do you know what's wrong with her? Is she going to be okay?" Draco asked urgently. If Madame Pomfrey found it strange that there were four, not including Dean who needed a look over as well, other students in the infirmary, or the fact that Draco Malfoy was taking interest in Hermione, she didn't point it out.

"It appears that she has a concussion. We will have to wait until she wakes up to see the repercussions of this. It will be awhile. I've made sure she'll sleep soundly all night for my magic to completely heal her brain."

"But if your magic can heal her brain, won't she be okay?" asked Ginny worriedly. Madame Pomfrey shook her head.

"No, you children don't understand. With the continued exposure to magic, the rules change. If she chooses to, subconsciously, she may will herself to forget her life, the magic world, or maybe just the fact that she likes blueberry pies. She might accidentally cut off feeling to random parts of her body. The exposure to magic makes all of this possible."

Draco bit his colorless lip. He would wait; they all will.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione woke up and the minute she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a jarring disarray of colors. She closed them again. Madame Pomfrey was at her side in an instant.

"Keep your eyes closed. They're confused as well as your brain. If you just let them settle for a minute." Hermione tried opening them again. Finally, the colors seemed to be settling in their appropriate places and things started to focus a little bit more. Madame Pomfrey was directly over her, administering medicine. When she tried to focus her eyes on what was on the far wall, her head ached too much.

"Don't worry, your sense will come back to you, it'll take twenty minutes tops." Madam Pomfrey was right. Hermione's senses were hopelessly jumbled. When she felt the fabric of the blanket beneath her fingers, the taste of fresh apples was in her mouth. When she tried to smell the antiseptic scent that she remembered filled the air of the infirmary, all she got was a ringing sound in her ears.

True to her word, however, Hermione senses did start to settle, especially after she swallowed down the bitter medicine. She tried looking at the far wall again, and to her delight, she found that the headache had left her and it was her friends, on the couch, sleeping. Harry was the first one awake and he hurried over to her side.

"You're okay right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Harry, I think I really am." Harry nodded seriously.

"Can you move your toes?" Hermione tried.

"Yes you big goof. Why?" Harry shook his head.

"Nothing, just something Madam Pomfrey said." Hermione suddenly noticed how wan he looked.

"Hey, are _you_ feeling okay?" Harry smiled.

"Of course. You gave us such a fright, Hermione. I don't even know how to start to punish you." Hermione laughed slightly and it woke Ginny up. Ginny ran up with a squeal and hugged Hermione, despite Madame Pomfrey's chastisements.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she kept saying, brushing coppery strands away from her face. Ron kept telling her to shut up but Hermione knew he was only covering up how frightened _he_ had been and how glad he was that Hermione was okay.

Hermione frowned slightly as she saw someone walking over. It was a blonde boy.

"Hermione? Thank god," he said, taking her hand in his. "You're alright?"

"Yes," Hermione said. She frowned slightly. "But who are you?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_Disclaimer: _I don't own.

**:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:**

**:Chapter Fourteen:**

Draco stopped as though he had run into a glass wall. That was Hermione, _his_ Hermione, sitting on the bed, right? He ventured to take another step.

"Hermione, this is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Harry said, uncertainly.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione repeated slowly. She rolled the word around in her mouth as though tasting a delicacy for the first time. She smile politely, without any of the warmth that she had for her friends.

"I'm sorry, you must have slipped my mind when we were introduced before...?" Hermione voice trailed off. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you. You go to Hogwarts?" At this point, everyone was looking at either Hermione or Draco with a shocked expression.

"Hermione! This is Malfoy! Malfoy the git! The one that turned into a ferret! The one that called you a mudblood!" Ron exclaimed. Ginny put a hand on his arm to calm him.

"Ro-on," Hermione said, with tried patience. "I don't know him so if this is a joke...is this a joke?" She studied the faces of her friends warily.

"Do you really not know me?" Draco said, finding his tongue again.

"I'm really sorry if I'm supposed to know who you are. I hit my head I think." Hermione rubbed a tender spot on her head. "Perhaps I've got amnesia." Hermione laughed, though it was a bit strained. Everyone else looked at her with a stricken expression. Draco could hardly stand to be standing there any more. Something was convulsing in his chest and screaming in his head. He had to get out of there before he started to yell at someone. Yell at Hermione for forgetting him. Yell at Harry and Ron and Ginny for being remembered. Hell, go find Dumbledore and yell at him for not doing anything. It took all of his strength to open his mouth and control what came out.

"It's...it's nothing. Well, I hope you recover soon," Draco said. His entire heart was screaming at him to beg and cry and plead Hermione, that she remembered him, didn't she? How could she forget him? He was breaking down, he really was. But he couldn't do it in front of Hermione. It was his reasonable mind that made him nod to everyone else in the room and force himself to walk out of the infirmary and into the hallway, alone. After a moment, Harry rushed after him, which made Ron jump to follow.

Hermione watched them go, feeling confused and vaguely lonely. What was that all about? Was he offended that she didn't remember him? Was she _supposed_ to remember him? Everything about the last couple of days (or was it months? Everything was so muddled in her mind she could hardly _think_) was one big mess. She comforted herself in what she _did_ know. But with Harry and Ron suddenly gone, she felt as though the proof of what she remembered was gone and she had let everyone down somehow.

Hermione felt her hand being squeezed and she looked down to find it was Ginny's hand. She looked up into her friend's worried face and felt the loneliness start to melt away.

"Hermione, are you feeling okay?" asked Ginny. How could Hermione remember everything but Draco? Ginny was more scared than she let on.

"I feel fine," Hemrione said. "Honestly I do. So please can you tell me what's going on?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Malfoy! Hey! Malfoy!" Draco didn't stop when he heard Harry, _Harry Potter_, running after him. It was perhaps the only time Harry would be chasing him that wasn't in malicious intent or Quidditch. But Draco was in no condition to be surprised over the fact that Harry was trying to get his attention. All that was running through his mind was Hermione and Hermione not recognizing him. His mind was busy downloading the latest information that he had chosen to finally acknowledge: he loved her and he couldn't live without her.

Draco almost wished he _could_ cry; that would at least be a cathartic release for him. Instead, all of his emotions stayed pent up in his chest until he thought he would burst. So he ran.

"_Malfoy!" _Draco had burst through the doors and onto the great, grassy Quidditch field. The wet grass was slippery under his feet but he didn't stop running. The sky was an overcast gray and the air was cold, biting into his face and hands. His breath came in gasps that turned into a visible fog.

"Draco will you _please_ stop?" Draco somehow skidded to a stop for a reason he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he heard his first name. Or maybe it was because he was sick of running. He barely had time for these two, small thoughts to process in his mind when he felt something warm hit him, _hard,_ in the back and he fell over, Harry on top of him.

"Jesus, Harry! Are you trying to kill me?" Draco groaned, rolling over on the wet grass.

"No, I was trying to catch you. How was I supposed to know you were suddenly going to stop?" Harry said, in a way that was irritable but not mean, if such a thing was really possible.

"Well why were you chasing me? No one in their right mind would stop when their enemy chases them," Draco said. He looked up at Harry's pale face, pink faintly coloring his cheeks.

"Don't be so childish. Drop this enemy thing, will you? _Something happened_; we both know it. Well _I _know it. So now you tell me what happened between you and Hermione."

"What? So you could skin me for it?" Draco scoffed. "Excuse me, Harry Potter, I may not be the Boy-Who-Lived but I am most certainly not stupid." Draco contemplated on what would be his easiest escape. Should he just start running again? No, Harry was in top physical condition like he was. He'd never get away. Could he convince Harry to let him go? No, Harry probably wouldn't be won over by anything Draco said.

"I won't," Harry said breathlessly. He was still breathing hard from running. Draco, startled, let his mind's thought process halt.

"What?"

"I won't. Skin you. Or hurt you in any way. I just want to know what happened." Draco searched Harry's emerald eyes warily. He noticed there was darkness in them, like a filmy cover that dimmed the color. He realized, with a small shock, that he felt sorry for the other boy. _Sorry_. For Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. But up close, it was easy, easier than anything else, to see how tired Harry was, how harrying life must be for him. Draco took this and trusted him.

"I met Hermione in a club halfway through summer," Draco began. "I saw someone put something in her drink. He's someone we both knew. Oh my god, I completely forgot about that." Suddenly energetic and anxious, Draco jumped up and started pacing around.

"Oh my god. I can't believe I hadn't given him a second thought. I can't believe-" Harry grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him back down.

"Who is this guy and what does he have to do with Hermione?" he asked seriously. Somewhere beyond Draco's current chaotic thoughts and worries, a loose thought threaded its way through his mind: _Thank god one of us is rational. _It was true. What would they have accomplished if both of them had suddenly turned into the dithering, anxious git that he seemed to have suddenly become?

"He slipped something, into her drink and I took her home so she wouldn't be in any danger. I had been living alone for the whole summer and it was good to see a familiar face, that's all, you have to believe me. That was all at the time."

"I believe you," Harry said. Draco drew courage from this and started again.

"I recognized that she wasn't eating. I knew because..." Draco hesitated. Should he really be saying all of this? Well, he already started so he might as well not leave anything out. "Because Pansy was anorexic for a long time when we used to go out. So I made her eat. She stayed with me for the summer and we became close." Draco wondered if maybe he _should_ leave out some of the things he and Hermione did. But judging from Harry's face, Draco decided the other boy already knew.

"When school started, I did a cowardly thing but I felt like I had to do it at the time. People would...be angry if they knew that Hermione and I were together. Angry would be an understatement," Draco said wryly. "They would try to hurt her or me and I didn't want her hurt. So I told her we had to go back to the way we were before the summer. I mean, don't lie, you know at least Ron would have thrown some punches my way if he knew."

"I guess you're right," Harry said slowly, and somewhat reluctantly.

"But it was stupid because I should have taken the risk of my getting hurt. I'd rather get hurt and protect Hermione and _be_ with her than protect her and be without her. I wanted to tell her this and now..." Draco felt something strange collect in the corners of his eyes. Was he...was he _crying_? Oh damn it, _now_ what will Harry think of him? This was the first time he's cried since...hell, _forever_ and he picks the time to start now? What was the matter with him?

"What are you going to do now? You heard what Madame Pomfrey said. We could see if somehow the process is reversible but I think she made it pretty clear that it was up to Hermione to decide."

"I think...I think it's for the best," Draco finally said. "If I've hurt her so much that she's..._erased_ me from her memory, fine then. She won't be hurt anymore. She can start over, start going out of people again without thinking of me." Harry stared at Draco for a minute then punched him.

"Harry! What the hell was that for?" Draco rubbed his arm.

"For acting like a self-sacrificing martyr. If you love her Draco, you have to get her back. You can't wallow in self-pity thinking you did a noble thing because the only thing you _can_ do now is to convince her that you love her and that she still loves you."

"What?" Draco looked at Harry with disbelief.

"I swear to God, Draco, you'll regret it if you don't." Draco shook his head, not at what Harry was saying, but hoping that somehow the physical movement could clear his head. Was that right? Was it right to march back and disturb Hermione's peace just so he could have his love? But if she loved him too, would it be worth it? She had to, if he loved her, he couldn't give up, not like this.

"Okay," Draco said slowly. "Okay I'll do it." Harry nodded.

"And that's what I wanted to hear."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ron watched Harry collide with Draco and he watched the two boys talk. He felt slightly forlorn. Where did he fit in the world now? In his circle of friends? Harry promised him that they would be closer than ever, when he first started seeing Ginny. But Harry wasn't. It wasn't even because of Ginny. Harry was falling deeper and deeper into himself each year.

All Ron could do was watch helplessly as each year Harry withdrew from everyone further. Ron could remember when Harry used to talk to him and tell him things and now whenever Ron even tried to ask Harry how he was feeling, he felt as though he was giving his best friend an interrogation. But why wasn't Harry opening up to him any more? Wasn't that what best friends are for? _Isn't_ he still Harry's best friend?

What had happened to the trio? Harry, Hermione, and him, cruising through the hallways of Hogwarts in another one of their adventures, some made up, others real with stakes higher than any of them ever imagined. But that was the problem. Harry started realizing the stakes and he realized what he had to do continuously and he literally had to save the wizarding world single handedly more than once.

Ron wanted to tell Harry it was okay to cry sometimes and that it was okay to depend on his friends for strength. When Harry cried silently or mumbled things in his sleep at night, Ron wanted to wake him up, give him some Butterbeer, and ask him what was the matter. He would have if they were still in their first-year but what were they now?

Ron lingered at the doorway a little bit longer, wondering if Harry and Draco were going to fight and wondered if Harry would need his help if they did. But the conversation didn't seem to be spiteful. It seemed the exact opposite. Ron hesitated just a little while longer, then resigned himself to knowing that he was no longer Harry's best friend. He couldn't help Harry the way he wanted to. Ginny could help, so could Hermione, hell, it looked as though even _Draco Malfoy_ might be able to help his friend. But then why couldn't he? What had he done wrong that everyone else seemed to have done right?

Ron turned away and headed for the Gryffindor common room. Maybe there were some people there who would want to play wizarding chess or something else. Maybe there was a way that he could feel a little bit less wretched.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hey, Harry was really worried about you, we all were," Ginny said, surprisingly serious. There was enough room for Ginny to sit on the bed as well but she wasn't sitting still. She kept banging her heel against the side of the bed, looking anxious.

"You really like him, don't you," Hermione said, studying Ginny's face. Whenever Ginny spoke of Harry, she did so in a careful manner. She talked about him in a way that Hermione hadn't seen her talk about any other guy.

"I think I do," Ginny said, hesitantly.

"That's good. You're good for him. You make him smile, you know. He doesn't do that often anymore," Hermione said. Madame Pomfrey gave a warning glance to Ginny for sitting on the bed but gave both girls a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

"Do you really remember nothing of Draco?"

"Who? The blonde boy?" Hermione asked.

"You spent the summer with him, Hermione."

"We...did? I don't quite remember the summer either," Hermione said carefully. "Were we family friends?" Ginny snorted.

"Hardly. It's very Romeo and Juliet, what happened." Hermione looked dubious.

"Well, maybe what's forgotten should stay that way," Madame Pomfrey said, over her shoulder, as she tended to another student who had passed out, from a spell gone awry. Ginny jumped, as though she hadn't realized that anyone else was in the room.

"Maybe," Hermione whispered. Ginny hugged Hermione and promised her that she'd be back during her lunch break. Madame Pomfrey wasn't letting Hermione leave the infirmary for another week at least. According to her, Hermione was in an extremely sensitive state and the influx of emotions and sights and sounds would irritate her still healing mind and may have a harmful effect.

When Ginny had left, Hermione tried her hardest to remember who that blonde boy was. Draco Malfoy they called him. Hermione didn't know him; that was for sure. But...but she just couldn't _help_ feeling a pull towards him. It was small but sure. Hermione felt a connection with him that she couldn't quite deny. There was something comforting about him and, at the same time, something a little dangerous. Hermione turned her head and closed her eyes and just before she fell asleep, a fleeting thought crossed her mind in a very languid sort of way, only to be forgotten again the minute it passed. _I really missed him_.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	15. Chapter Sixteen

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**oo Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka oo **

**oo Chapter Sixteen oo **

Hermione watched the ground carefully as she deliberately put one foot in front of the other as she walked out of the infirmary. She put a hand out to the wall to steady herself. Sighing, Hermione leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, feeling the comforting, familiar smoothness of the stones at her back. _She _was the one who had insisted on being let out, right?

Hermione felt lost, ever since she woke up. She felt a vague sense of overwhelming loss and she honestly could say she didn't enjoy that. Hermione always made it a point to keep parts of herself _to_ herself, never one to really throw herself headlong into a wild romance that left her broken for months after it fizzled out. She couldn't _remember_ doing such a thing but Hermione felt as though if she ever did, _this_ is what it would feel like.

She sighed again, letting herself relax. She was just a corridor and a half away from the infirmary and walking already felt like a struggle. Hermione desperately wanted to be _herself_ again. Instead she felt silly and weak and incomplete. She knew Harry and Ginny and Ron desperately wanted to help her but she didn't know _what_ she needed help on, exactly.

Hermione put a hand to her laboring heart. Is this what a broken heart felt like? Had she somehow without her knowledge gone and given her heart to someone? For a minute there, Hermione felt like sobbing although she chastised that part of her. Since when was she driven by trivial teen angst? But she couldn't deny the heavy feeling in her stomach and the light-headedness.

She closed her eyes for a moment, just to relax, and then she would get up and make her way to her dorm. But when she opened her eyes, she found a hand in front of her, palm up. It was a kind gesture and a question. Hermione followed the hand up to the long arm and finally onto the face of that blonde boy. _Draco_, Hermione mused. _Yes, that's his name_. Was he really the boy that Ron had called a git? Had he _really_ called her a mudblood? Isn't that what Ron said? Or maybe she was getting herself mixed up. She couldn't keep her facts straight ever since she woke up and quite frankly, that worried her and made her wonder how that would affect her schoolwork.

This boy didn't _look_ like he would call her names. He didn't look like the type that her friends and she would call names either. He was offering his hand with the gentlest, kindest, and saddest expression that she had ever seen and even though she hardly knew him, Hermione empathized with him without even realizing it.

She answered his unvoiced question by putting her hand in his larger one and he helped her to his feet.

"I was just going to check on you at the infirmary," he said. "I didn't know Madame Pomfrey would let you out so early." Hermione found it surprisingly hard to talk.

"I...I insisted on being let out, although now I'm wondering if maybe it was a bad idea," she said, somewhat sheepishly. She put a hand to her forehead and the boy started forward looking concerned.

"No, I'm fine, really," she said. "It's just...everything's been _such_ a mess ever since I woke up. Do you know how it feels?" Draco stayed silent. Hermione decided she liked how he gave her time to explain herself, how he waited until she was fully ready to talk.

"It feels as though someone has ripped out my heart and put in a heavy, clumsy substitute," she said, with a wry grin.

"It feels like emptiness and heaviness at the same time. It makes you feel like a wandering amnesiac without the capabilities to focus on one thing for more than a few minutes and you _know_ that you shouldn't be acting this way and you want more than anything to snap out of this reverie but you can't," he said, softly. Hermione tilted her head as she surveyed the boy standing before her.

"Funny how you know _precisely_ how I feel and I know nothing about you," she said. Draco smiled faintly.

"Funny how that is." The corridors seemed strangely empty. Hermione would expect at least one student to come crashing through as a result of a botched Potions experiment or something of that sort, but it felt as though she and Draco were the only two people in the entire castle. She strained to hear noises beyond this hall but there were none.

"You should be resting," Draco said.

"I'm thinking of heading to the Gryffindor common rooms," Hermione said, not realizing she was considering this until she said it. "I need company, not solitude."

"Can I walk you there?" Hermione let her eyes travel to her feet and then back up.

"Because of the poor state that I'm in?" Suddenly, her lips turned into a grin. "Oh, you almost had me. No, Mr. Whoever you are, _Draco_, you will not find out the entrance to the Gryffindor rooms, at least not from me."

"Then at least let me walk you to the end of the hall?" He looked so sad that Hermione couldn't help agreeing. After all, she needed company, not solitude.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hermione!" Ginny cried. She looked as though she wanted to throw her arms around the taller girl, but stopped herself.

"You look so tired, are you _sure_ Madame Pomfrey let you out?" she asked. Hermione laughed a little.

"I'm not!" she protested. "I don't know why everyone's blowing this out of proportion."

"Because if you croak on us, we'll never forgive you!" hollered Ron, from the other side of the room where he was teaching wizard chess to Neville.

"How are you feeling anyway?" asked Harry quietly.

"I'm feeling fine, _really_." Hermione surveyed Harry's face and made an exasperated sigh.

"Honestly, you don't believe me now?" She kicked Harry gently to make him look up at her. He grinned sheepishly.

"Just making sure. What Ron said is true."

"Well then you and Ron have nothing to worry about," Hermione said. Hesitating, she said, "About this Draco character." Ginny looked at her, her golden eyes wide. Harry seemed to watch her carefully and Hermione couldn't tell if he was masking surprise or interest or both or neither. It was always hard to tell what Harry was thinking these days.

"What about him?" Harry said.

"Is he really all that bad? Ron mentioned back at the infirmary that he was a git." Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.

"He's...he's someone you have to decide for yourself," Harry said. Hermione scowled. She wasn't in the mood for roundabout, vague answers.

"What do you mean?'

"Well, what do you think of him?" Ginny asked, carefully. Hermione considered this.

"I think he's sad," she finally said. "Sad and gentle." Ginny pressed her lips together as though suppressing a sharp gasp. Harry leaned forward and put his hand over Hermione's.

"And that's what we mean by deciding for yourself," he said, with a smile.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco let himself into his room. He figured he wouldn't hang around the Head Boy and Head Girl's common room. He wasn't quite sure how Hermione would take it if she knew that he was Head Boy. Instead, he sat in his room, a little dejectedly, wondering what the old Draco would be doing.

The old Draco would have been hosting a party of Slytherins in the private common room right now. They would smuggle in champagne and basically make a mess until Snape came along and told them, _kindly_, to break it up. If the summer really _had_ been erased, then Hermione would have been her usual annoying self, trying to break up the party, maybe even alerting Professor McGonagall. Draco would just laugh in her face and party even harder.

He envied that alterna Draco. Or did he? He considered carefully. As crazy as it seemed, no, no he did not envy that Draco. If he were, then he would have never known the gentleness and the sweetness of a certain messy brown-haired girl. And to think that he had lost it all.

Draco leaned back into the voluminous pillows and settled himself for a weary night of insomnia and broken sleep when he heard a soft knock. He sat straight up and strained his ears. Yes, there was another knock, but it wasn't at his room. It was outside at the entrance of the common room.

He pulled on a robe and left his room and opened the door to the common room. If just a week ago someone was to tell him that Harry Potter would be standing before him, apparently having sought him out, he would he laughed in their face. But here he was now with Harry standing in front of him. Wait, maybe he was looking for Hermione.

"Hermione's not here," Draco said.

"I know. She's spending the night with Ginny. She's still feeling a little...beaten, for the lack of a better word," Harry said.

"What are you doing here?" Harry shrugged.

"I can't sleep these days." Draco nodded.

"Neither can I." Draco cocked his head.

"How did you know where the Head students' rooms are anyway?" Harry grinned crookedly.

"I don't know, I have my ways."

"Did Hermione tell you?"

"Yes." Draco let his own unexpected smile tug at the corner of his lips. Who knew it was possible to hold such a ridiculously civil conversation with Harry Potter? Well all right, he knew but somehow Draco figured that last time was a fluke. Was Harry really this forgiving?

Draco noticed that Harry was holding his broom. 

"Care to join me for a little Quidditch practice?" Harry asked. Yes, yes he was that forgiving. Draco was pleasantly surprised.

"Sure, let me get my broom."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Flying at night seemed like freedom to Draco. As he felt the cold air kiss his face, he finally felt more alive than he had for a long time. He could barely make out Harry, flying beneath him.

"Okay! I'm releasing the Snitch!" Harry hollered. Draco let the familiar hum of excitement and anticipation settle in his bones as he sensed rather than saw the Snitch being released. It was almost impossible to really find the Snitch at this time of night but it gave him and Harry a purpose to be flying around the Quidditch field. If they couldn't find the Snitch by the time they decided to return to the castle, Harry could always call for it using the Summoning Spell he had mastered a couple years ago.

It felt glorious. Absolutely unbelievable to be flying in the dark, searching for the Snitch, and letting his anxiety fall behind him. A warm feeling of competition even started to fizz inside of him as Draco picked up the pace. He narrowly missed Harry who suddenly zoomed by him in the opposite direction and Draco followed him. Harry always had the better eye anyway.

Draco didn't question whether Harry was letting him win or not when he realized he was gaining on the other boy, and then passing him. He didn't care if Harry had let him win (and he was pretty sure Harry had, being considerate like that) and it still felt marvelous to have his hand connect with the warm, round body of the Snitch, with the feathery wings flapping against his hand.

He didn't know what possessed him to do so but Draco suddenly threw both hands off of the broom and flung them wide like a rock star. He closed his eyes. Suddenly he was falling. Was this what Hermione felt like when she fell towards amnesia? When she fell towards forgetting him? Would he forget her too? Draco almost hoped he would. Maybe it would make things a little easier.

Something warm grabbed his arm and instead of plummeting towards the ground, he found himself cradled against Harry. They landed and rolled onto the grass.

"Do I have to keep an eye on you as well as Hermione?" Harry demanded. Draco chuckled. Then he started to laugh. He didn't know what he was laughing about but it felt wonderful, as though he was releasing all of the tension inside of him. The stress that had been relieved when he was flying had completely evaporated as he laughed.

At first Harry looked bewildered but he started laughing as well.

"Gods, you don't know how good this feels," Draco said, throwing his head back, exposing his neck to the heavens.

"Yes I do," Harry said. Draco decided to believe the boy sitting next to him. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, he was content.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	16. Chapter Seventeen

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**oo Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka oo**

**oo Chapter Sixteenoo**

Draco dropped his heavy Transfiguration textbook on the table before him and groaned as he eased himself into the chair.

"Please tell me you have some good news for me," he said to the amused looking black-haired boy before him. "Professor McGonagall has gone on a hate crusade and apparently even my own _house_ professor has joined since Snape" -At this point, Draco dropped another heavy textbook onto the table, on top of his Transfiguration book- "Has assigned me with enough essays to last me until next month."

"Maybe they have joined some club," Harry said. "I don't remember getting that much homework assigned."

"That's because you don't _do_ your homework," Draco replied, scathingly. Harry had to smile at that. The hour was late and the students in the Dining Hall were few. There was no one there to trouble them by spreading rumors of _why_ finally in the seventh year, Harry and Draco were deciding to associate with one another with no apparent animosity. Harry welcomed this; he's had people talk of him his whole life and he never quite enjoyed it.

"Well in that case," Harry said. "I suppose I do have some good news for you, Draco." Although Harry expected calling the other boy by his first name strange, his given name came much more easily to Harry's tongue than Draco's surname.

Draco wearily put a hand up to rub his eyes. They were so dry that his tears stung for a couple of seconds. He blinked several times to rid himself the uneasy sensation. Then Harry's words registered.

"Really? Like what? Has Ron gone and hexed himself by accident?" Draco said, brightening.

"No," Harry said, exasperated. "I know you aren't fond of him and he's not fond of you, but honestly, Ron isn't Neville. I can't really imagine him accidentally hexing himself." The other boy busied himself in digging into his fragrant garlic and onion chicken pot pie.

"He might hex you though," Harry said, wryly. "And pretend it was an accident." Draco pretended as though he wasn't listening. Harry could quite imagine Draco making a very good Animagus cat. He already had the attitude down; he shut his ears when bad things were said and did what he pleased no matter what. He answered to no one except himself and...well, perhaps Hermione.

"I know you're hungry, but couldn't you have picked _anything_ else to eat? That smells really foul," Harry commented. Again, Draco chose not to hear what Harry said. Harry carefully stirred his spoon around his creamy soup and brought the spoon to his lips. After thinking his words through carefully, Harry ventured to talk again.

"She doesn't hate you, you know," he said. Draco looked up.

"What?"

"She doesn't hate you," Harry repeated. "She likes you, has taken a liking to you anyway. I'm not surprised; her memories might have been erased, hopefully temporarily, but the initial attraction can't be."

"Just give her another week and she'll start remembering what a fool I was. Or her subconscious will remind her," Draco said. Harry scowled.

"Pessimism was not what we agreed on," he pointed out. "You have a chance, Draco, honestly, and if anyone can bring back her memories of this summer, it's you."

"Do you really think that it's better for her to remember?" asked Draco. "She was unhappy, you know. _I_ made her unhappy. Maybe it's really best if she does forget and starts all over again."

"Stop wallowing in self-pity, Draco, honestly," Harry said. "She might have been unhappy but a larger part, a _great deal_ larger part of her was happy. Exceedingly so. I know you'll do the right thing." Harry stood up and made as if to leave. Draco considered. Hermione was happy, wasn't she? Didn't she say that he had helped her over the summer? Was what they had over the summer, that short fling, really worth saving? _Yes_.

"Wait, Harry, don't go yet," Draco said. Harry sat back down with a strange look in his eyes. Draco found it harder to interpret Harry's expressions than anyone else but he _swore_ that the other boy looked almost...smug. _Of course_. As usual, Harry had merely been testing him again. Draco scowled, albeit good-naturedly, inwardly; he wasn't used to being bested in wits and intellect by another.

"Yes?" Harry said.

"So I really have a chance? I don't mean just a chance at getting Hermione back, I mean, a chance at making her happy, _really_ happy?" Harry cocked his head, a grin creeping onto his face.

"You know, Draco, I was beginning to think you were never going to ask that question."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco was in the library. He didn't know why. In all of the past six years he had been at this school, he hardly took a whiff of the library air nevertheless set a foot in the vast room. But here he was now, settling himself down at one of the empty tables, almost completely hidden from view. Perhaps it was Hermione rubbing off on him. Or perhaps it was just a naïve hope that he would run into Hermione here. Whatever the reason, it had to do with Hermione although Draco wasn't sure he wanted to really analyze his thoughts too deeply on this.

He flipped open his Potions book, wondering why Snape had suddenly become such a stick in the mud. Seven rolls of parchment, was he mad? Draco flipped to the index to look up the plants needed for a temporary levitating potion. As he traced his index finger down the list of ingredients spelled with an _I, _a shadow fell over him.

"Excuse me but do you mind if I sit here? All the other tables are full." Draco's heart gave a half-excited, half-uneasy turn at the sound of the voice.

"Of course," he said, pushing his book bag down to the floor. He knew he was avoiding meeting her eyes but he couldn't really look at her at this moment. It would unhinge him. He wasn't prepared, he wasn't ready. And if _only_ his heart would stop palpitating!

"Wait a minute," Hermione said. "It's you, Draco. Do you study at the library as well?" There was no way he could really get away with staring hard at the grainy surface of the wooden table any more.

"Not...really," Draco said. His throat had suddenly gone dry. Had he been struck with an infliction all of a sudden? It was entirely possible with his heart gone berserk, his throat gone mad, and his mind gone insane. Draco made a mental note to drop by Madame Pomfrey's for a quick visit.

"But I might start coming more often; I like it here," he said. Hermione smiled knowingly.

"I know. Most people avoid the library like the plague but honestly, I don't mind it at all. It's so quiet here. My best work happens in this library."

"Really?"

"Well, yes." Hermione looked as though she was trying to decide whether or not to tell him something else.

"I met my first boyfriend here," she admitted. "Well, I mean, the reason why Krum came by the library so often was because he saw me here."

"Oh?" Draco said. This was getting a bit painful.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. It was a silly matter of expectations and societal pressures, you know?"

"You mean you just went out with him because you decided that fourteen was high time for you to get your first boyfriend?" Draco asked. Hermione tilted her head.

"Yes, exactly. How did you know that I was fourteen?"

"Lucky guess?" Draco offered.

"It's not fair that you know so much about me and I don't know a single thing about you," Hermione said. She drummed her fingertips on the top of her own Arithmancy textbook. Her book was full of dog-eared pages and post-it notes sticking out of the top of the book, making markers of what Draco suspected was pages that had useful information. He never had put in that much effort with his own readings and research. Then again, that was what he admired about Hermione.

"You tell me something," Hermione said. A look so devious as to have put Machiavelli to shame crept onto her face. "Tell me...about your first love. That's interesting enough to start with, no?"

Draco had to force himself to plaster a smile that would be appropriate for the light, teasing mood that Hermione had presented the question with.

"She..." Draco was going to make something up, or he was planning to. Or he was going to give a bland, normal answer. Instead, when he opened his mouth, he found he had no control over what he was going to say.

"She took my life by storm," he said. "She's extremely smart; if anyone could best you in an argument, she could. I loved the way she looks when she wakes up on Sunday morning against white sheets with the sun on her face. I felt happy, genuinely happy, for the first time ever when I was with her. I know I love her because I can't live without her."

Hermione didn't look uncomfortable or just plain curious as anybody else would have been. Instead, Draco found something much more complex on Hermione's face.

"What happened?" Hermione said, softly. Draco thanked her silently that she hadn't asked who his first love was.

"I did something stupid. I regret it probably, oh, once every five minutes or so," Draco said, trying to revive the lighter mood of before. He found himself growing serious again. "I lost her and now I think she's completely forgotten me." Draco gave Hermione a crooked grin.

"Funny how some things turn out." Hermione looked surprised and peculiar then and suddenly stood up.

"I...I'll see you later, Draco," she said. She gathered her books in her arms and quickly walked out the door. Draco watched her leave.

"You have no idea how much I regret it," he said, quietly.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione didn't know exactly _what_ had happened back there in the library but it was strange. It was an uncanny feeling that had crept over her and sitting there, listening to Draco talk, she felt as though his voice was nearly lulling her to sleep. And as she drifted in that strange in-between stage of consciousness, she found herself in the place of Draco's love.

She could imagine so clearly what it felt like to sleepily open her eyes, her face pleasantly warm, bathed in sunlight. Hermione could even feel how the soft, white blankets around her was warm, having absorbed the warmth from her and Draco's bodies.

No. Hermione shook her head. What was she thinking? It was obvious what had happened. She was falling for this Draco character. She _wanted_ so badly to be that girl that Draco had been passionately talking about so quietly, so confidentially, to her just a few minutes ago, that she had imagined herself in this mystery girl's place.

But it _had_ felt so real. Hermione could even feel the texture of the blankets beneath her fingertips, as though the phantom blankets had imbedded themselves into the whorls of her fingers. She could feel the soft warmth of sunlight kissing her face and then Draco's lips brushing against her closed eyes.

She just _couldn't_ pine after Draco, especially seeing as how he was still not over this girl. He had said she was his first love, right? When had all of this happened?

As much as she tried to tell herself to forget it, that she could never replace this girl in Draco's heart, Hermione couldn't forget the sad, gray eyes. She had never felt such a pull towards anybody before in her life. Hermione didn't want to fight this pull at all but the sensible part of her mind was wondering if maybe she should, for Draco's sake.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

By some raw hope that she might see Draco again, Hermione found herself heading to the back table in the library. She didn't quite know _why_ she wanted to see him again so badly. In fact, she felt that she should be doing the exact opposite seeing as how he was obviously not over that girl he told her about and there was really no room for her in his heart. She was setting herself up for something painful but Hermione didn't care. She just had to see him, one more time, that's all she wanted, and she would leave Draco alone.

She found him there, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, a picture of complete concentration. Hermione waited by the bookshelf for a little bit, smiling with an almost motherly love at the boy. When he appeared to have come to a halt in his writing, she let herself known.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" she asked. Was he gratified to see her? Or was he annoyed?

"I'm not bothering you or anything, am I?" Hermione asked. He shook his head.

"No, I was just finishing up an essay. Snape seems to have gone a bit over the edge as of late."

"He's always been quite the charmer, hasn't he," Hermione said, wryly. "Such a way with students." Draco grinned too.

"What homework do you have? As I recall, you didn't do _any_ last time you came here," Draco said. Hermione flushed and looked down.

"I'm really sorry about," she said. "I just..." What was she going to say? Hermione desperately wanted to ask him if there could possibly be a part of his heart left that he might consider giving to her, but how could she ask such a question to someone who was so clearly heartbroken?

"Wanted to give you privacy, to fall back into your memories," she finished.

"Memories." Draco said the word as though it pained him and teased him. He shrugged.

"What are memories anyway? It's unreal. A simple fact can get horribly skewed in someone's mind and with no one else to validate it, it becomes fiction."

"Not if it's what you believe," Hermione said, thinking. "Truth is elusive. It's relative to whoever is judge." Draco smiled, albeit sadly. Hermione watched as Draco seemed to finish his essay.

"What are you thinking of?" he asked. Draco had now given his full attention to Hermione who was sitting across from him. She would have expected those intense, gray eyes to be unsettling but she quite liked the sensation of them looking straight into her eyes.

"Elusive things," she said, smiling slightly. "Hearts." She left it at that. Draco scribbled something at the bottom of his parchment, tore it off and passed it across the table to her. He smiled and silently excused himself and Hermione found herself alone at the table, trying to will herself to look at that innocent piece of parchment before her.

_Whatever it is, I will be okay_, Hermione promised herself. _And I won't bother him any more. He's not mine to have anyway._ That thought process halted when she saw what was written on the parchment.

She picked it up and held it close to her nose, then pulled it back, wondering if she had read the words wrong. She felt her heart drop and the earth wobble ever so slightly on its axis. What did this mean? Was it a warning for her to stay away or was it...was it an invitation? In Draco's surprisingly neat cursive, written in a bruised, black ink on the ecru parchment was:

_Have you interest in my heart? _

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	17. Chapter Eighteen

Disclaimer: I don't own.

**:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:**

**:Chapter Nineteen:**

Hermione pressed a hand to her heart as she walked to the Gryffindor common room, in search of Ginny or Harry. She _swore_ her heart was...fluttering. She didn't want to get too excited; she could have completely misinterpreted the note, for all she knew, which was why she needed a second opinion. Or did she? This seemed awfully personal to dump on someone else. But it was _Harry and Ginny_ she was talking about; she could share this with them, couldn't she?

Before her mind could continue, Hermione was forced to reach for the wall, her other hand snaking up to rest on her temple, a jarring headache suddenly ailing her.

_What fresh hell? _Hermione thought, as she shut her eyes. This hadn't happened before. A flash of memory, as hot as lightning and as brief as a raindrop, flooded her entire being. Hermione felt phantom hands clasp her own fingers and she smelled the sweet scent of vanilla with a hint of something muskier underneath it. For a second, Hermione felt flaxen hair press against her cheek and the softness of lips on her own.

It was over as soon as it began. Hermione pressed two fingers against her lip, wondering what on _earth_ had just happened. She suddenly felt very heavy and stupid as though she had swum in the lake with all her clothes on and dragged herself out of the water and lay down. It was labor to even stay standing and Hermione found herself yearning to bring back the memory.

Whatever it was that just happened gave Hermione a very fey, uncanny feeling, one that wasn't altogether unpleasant but wasn't quite comfortable either. As a direct antidote, Hermione set her mind on going to the Gryffindor Common Room.

It wasn't Harry or Ginny she found there but Ron, sitting in front of the fireplace, a forgotten parchment on his lap. Hermione approached more cautiously than she would think it proper for a best friend. Ron seemed to be watching the crimson flames, not unlike his hair color, with such intensity that Hermione was afraid to interrupt.

"Ron?" The boy seemed to jump and he looked up at Hermione, his amber eyes looking almost confused.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, taking a seat across from him.

"It's the Gryffindor Common Room," Ron said, with a shrug.

"I mean, what are you doing here by yourself?" Ron seemed to hesitate in answering, his eyes straying back to the fire. That was when Hermione sensed the loneliness, so deeply embedded into Ron he seemed to wear it like a cloak.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said, softly. Ron looked at his former best friend carefully.

"What for?" he asked, trying to sound off-hand.

"For not being a very good friend," Hermione said, wryly. "Honestly, I've been so caught up in my own life that I couldn't even see that I was neglecting my friend."

"I was _not_ being neglected," Ron said, indignantly. Hermione raised an eyebrow and it almost felt like old-times. Hermione could always see through Ron's cheery and indignant façade. Her friend seemed to deflate before her eyes.

"I guess maybe a little," he muttered, into the fire. He gave Hermione a sidelong glance.

"I can't help him, you know," he said. Hermione drew her knees up to her chest and covered them with the woven crimson and gold blanket.

"I know," she said, laying her head down on her knees. "I'm not sure anyone can."

"No, you can. Ginny can. _Malfoy_ can. I can't. I did something wrong, Hermione, I don't know what but now..." His voice trailed off. Hermione watched Ron carefully, his face washed gold by the flickering firelight.

"You're his friend, Ron. You're his _best_ friend, if you can't help him, no one can."

"No, Hermione, I'm sorry but you're wrong." Ron gave her a sad smile. "For once you're wrong. I can't, I'm not his friend anymore. He's so withdrawn, he cries at night, and I can't even do anything about it. I'm...nobody now. Sorry." He gave her a slight shrug as he tried to look careless.

"Well, I'm _your_ friend," Hermione said, emphatically, reaching out to rest a hand over Ron's. Ron looked at her hand for a long time, an array of emotions playing across his face. He finally looked back up into Hermione's face.

"I know," he said, slowly, carefully, but clearly. "I've known that for a long time." They lapsed into silence but they both knew that at times like these, words really weren't needed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Maybe I was too forward. Maybe she thinks I'm some egotistical maniac. Maybe-"

"Maybe you're being irrational. Stop pacing and sit down, Draco, you're making me dizzy," Harry instructed. The blonde boy dumbly took a seat.

"Now," Harry said, pleasantly. "Where's your back-up for all these crazy claims?" Draco couldn't sit still. He hadn't acted so impulsively since...well since this summer when he met Hermione but he couldn't let himself remember that.

"She hasn't talked to me?" Draco offered, lamely.

"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, Draco," Harry said, exasperated. As Draco popped back up to pace and worry himself out, Ginny approached them. She put a diminutive hand on Draco's shoulder and pushed him back down.

"Sit," she ordered. She carried a tray with three mugs of hot chocolate.

"Draco," Harry said, with a frown, as he sipped his chocolate. "I've been meaning to ask you but it kept slipping my mind, did you ever find out who that was in the muggle club?" Draco shook his head. The unknown character was a steady itch in the back of his mind.

"It's been driving me insane," he said.

"Do you guys even know if he's someone you know?" Ginny asked, licking marshmallow off her fingers.

"I think Hermione said she knew who he was. But she forgot it after she drank what he offered her I think. She barely remembers anything about that night."

"Do you think it was magically inflicted?" Harry asked. "It's all together possible for him to have slipped a memory erasing drug into the drink. Ones from the black market in the magic world are more reliable than ones from the muggle market." Draco shook his head.

"I don't want to think about it."

"But we're going to have to. He could be walking around Hogwarts for all we know." The trio looked at each other, their drawn, serious expressions mirroring each other.

"And that's what makes me uncomfortable," Draco said. He stared at his chocolate, and then took a long drink.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

They all saw Hermione enter through the double doors of the Dining Hall and Harry felt Draco stiffen. They saw her scan the room as though searching for someone and they fixed on Draco.

"Come on, Gin," Harry said, and tugged slightly on the girl's sleeve. She nodded and pressed her lips together and gave Draco and Hermione one last glance before disappearing through the doors on the opposite side of the hall.

Hermione felt her heart drop and thud as she approached Draco. She felt as though she was floating towards him; she lost control and feeling over her legs a long time ago. It was taking an eternity to reach him. Drat it, why was the Dining Hall so enormous?

Draco was waiting with the same worried, excited anticipation. The Dining Hall seemingly emptied out completely, leaving only them in the vast room. Suddenly, they were standing before each other.

"I wasn't sure you were going to be here," Hermione finally said, finding her voice. Unfortunately, she realized only too late that once she started talking, she couldn't stop.

"I completely understand if what you mean by _this_," she brought out the parchment at this point and gestured towards it a bit too wildly. "Is that you want me to leave you alone. I can see that you're not over your first love. It's, I mean, I completely understand. It wasn't in my place to make such obvious overtures; I don't know what has gotten over me. I mean, I'm usually a _very_ rational person, Draco Malfoy. I don't do things that might, that might-"At this point, Hermione had to stop and take a breath.

"That might lay my heart or another's on the line. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal life and I honestly hope I haven't encroached on your _romantic_ life. I mean, not that I have interest. I mean, I do, but I don't want you to think that that in any way binds you to a responsibility. I mean, I just, I'm sorry," she finally blurted. She looked at Draco a bit pleadingly. Was he angry with her?

Draco was looking at her with a curious expression and what appeared to be a grin crept across his face. Hermione felt her breath quicken as he took a step closer to her and when she closed her eyes, she could feel his hands pooling warmth at the small of her back.

Before she could formulate a second thought, she felt Draco's lips on hers and realized that he _wasn't_ mad at her. The Dining Hall swayed and the ground beneath her seemed to give way and she felt a smile growing across her own face as she pulled away, feeling Draco's warm breath on her lips.

Hermione cocked her head and pressed her lips together thoughtfully.

"Draco?" He looked at her, quizzically.

"Did that taste a bit like vanilla to you?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooo


	18. Chapter Nineteen

_Disclaimer_: Ah, you guys know I don't own.

**:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:**

**:Chapter Eighteen:**

Hermione was left standing in the Dining Hall, pressing fingers to her kissed lips, wondering if she had dreamt the whole thing. Draco had taken his leave but Hermione was still standing, stunned, in the middle of the Dining Hall, the last of the students seemingly giving no notice as they left. She felt her lips curve into a smile. She had definitely drunken the metaphorical Love Potion #9 and it had left her on the cloud of the same number. Hermione wanted to stand there and relish in the moment, try to recapture just exactly how Draco's arms felt around her and the chimes of cliché music in her ears. A part of her, a small part, chastised her and mocked her for falling into such a stereotypical, teenage girl mindset.

Hermione ignored that part of her mind.

She could have surely just stood there the whole night smiling and remembering when it happened again. The lightning hot flash of pain ripped through her head. Hermione sank to her knees, her palms pressed against her temples. There was no underlying sweetness this time. The scent of acrid metal filled her nose and real pain sliced through her torso and drops of pomegranate colored blood fell on the ground before her.

When it had passed, Hermione shook her head to clear her vision and touched the drops of blood on the floor and checked her arms and hands. They seemed unmarred. It was when she blinked that she realized that it was a mixture of salty tears and blood that ran down her face. She wiped her face on her sleeve hurriedly and brushed off her robes. She stood and rubbed her foot across the blood on the floor to wipe them away and hurried to leave.

What was that? Hermione would have been lying if she said that she wasn't scared. She was. She was terrified, in fact. Hermione didn't know what was happening and suddenly, she realized she wasn't sure if she wanted to share this. She had already worried them _so much_. Perhaps this was just a backlash from her recovery and it would go away.

Yes; she would wait for a bit and see if her condition worsens. Perhaps then she would go visit Madame Pomfrey and ask her if there was another really wrong with her. But for the next week or so, she'll try to forget about this. Perhaps this was just something that happens once or twice. Nothing to fret about. She was…just not in the mood for more complications. Maybe if she ignored this, it would go away.

Hermione felt a flash of annoyance. Why her of all people? What was wrong with her _now_? Was this karmic punishment for something she had done in her past life or something? Hermione scowled. Or was it punishment for her eating habits earlier in her life? It's always her with the problems. It's always her that gets to play the weak one, the one that people have to look after. Well maybe she _wouldn't_ have been in this position if other people didn't force her there. It's basically their fault anyway.

Hermione abruptly stopped her train of thinking. That wasn't her. That wasn't her logic, anyway. She was surprised at how vicious her voice sounded, how irrational and biting, even inside her head, the words lying dormant on her tongue. Hermione rolled the words around in her mouth; they tasted bitter like metal. Perhaps she was just cranky, or surprised, or worried after this second spasm. Yes, that must be it.

Company. Yes, that's what she needs, company. She needs to be surrounded by her friends. Then nothing would ail her and she would be herself again, not some embittered girl who only had animosity to throw at her friends, wherever those emotions came from. This was just too bizarre.

Hermione hurriedly checked to see if there were any sign of the blood or tears on her face and walked out, leaving the door swinging behind her, headed for the Gryffindor common room.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione let herself in, through the portrait hole, vaguely wondering how she remembered the password. Her mind must be storing a lot of information. How much of that information are things that she doesn't realize consciously? When she entered the Common Room, she found Ginny curled up on the couch in front of the vast fireplace, her knees pulled up to her chest. She seemed to be deep in talk with Harry who was sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

Their faces were serious and Hermione wondered what they could be discussing. Ron? Or maybe they were talking about Harry? Or…her? Hermione realized maybe she should make some sort of sign that she was there, but as she contemplated on whether clearing her throat would be too tactless, Neville crashed in through the door, looking absolutely exhausted.

"Detention, with Snape," he gasped. With the proper help and pulling all-nighters on more than one occasion, Neville had managed to scrape by with a fairly decent grade in Potions last year. But Hermione wondered if all the extra work was perhaps taking a toll on the boy and whether he was willing to make that effort again. He looked ashen and weary.

Ginny and Harry's heads snapped up and looked towards the door, registering the fact that not only Neville was standing in the shadows of the doorway, but Hermione too. They rose from the couch and made their way over to the other two in the room.

"Was Snape being…" Ginny trailed off, trying to look for a word.

"An evil git?" Dean supplied, as he came down the stairs from the boys' room.

"Does no one sleep in this place?" Harry asked. Dean shrugged as Neville shook his fine hair from his eyes.

"He was being _impossible_," he huffed. "I don't know how much longer I can stand these weekly detentions with Snape."

"_Week_ly?" Hermione echoed.

"He finds one reason or another to put me in that dungeon with him until ungodly hours," Neville said, his cheeks turning red with anger, embarrassment, or both.

"You'd think he wouldn't since he doesn't seem to enjoy your company any more than you enjoy his," Harry commented, wryly, from the shadows.

"Well, he enjoys seeing me suffer," Neville said, shortly. "I'm going to bed. I'm sorry if I'm cranky, I'm just exhausted. I haven't had a proper night's sleep in ages." Harry and Dean nodded at the other boy as he passed.

"So, things that go bump in the night, eh?" Hermione remarked. The hour was late and nobody seemed relaxed enough to go to bed, except maybe Harry since it was always a little hard to tell how he was really feeling.

"Speak of the devil," Ginny said, as Ron stumbled down the stairs.

"Holy, what time is it?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes. "I thought I heard voices."

"We couldn't sleep," Dean explained.

"Well, we were talking," Ginny said, motioning to Harry. "And she came in and then Dean came down."

"What Dean said," Hermione said, shrugging.

"Well, if none of you can sleep, maybe you guys can help us keep the fire going," Ginny suggested. There was something comfortable in the air, something like nostalgia although nothing really had happened yet. Although they had all known each other for years, there were small, shy smiles passed around as they made their way to the plushy couches in front of the fire. Dean poked at the logs as Harry added a couple more. The fire spit and grew.

"What time is it?" The company moved their heads towards the sound of the voice which proved to be Lavender, looking a little mussed but still wide-eyed at the foot of the stairs leading to the girls' bedroom. Ron checked his watch as she made her way over.

"Nearly two in the morning," he informed her.

"What I wouldn't give for some marshmallows right now," Hermione said, reclining with her hands behind her head. Lavender settled down next to Ginny and rested her head on the shoulder of the other girl. As they tucked blankets around themselves, occasionally rising to add another log to the fire, they idly talked in the golden quality of the room, half awake, half asleep, even as the sun started to rise lazily and climb across the blue, gray sky. It was a foggy morning that turned the air into gold dust as the sun climbed higher. The voices finally quieted and the last person finished their last sentence as the company drifted off into sleep that carried into the silky shores of sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"What am I going to do with you students?" Professor McGonagall asked, as she shook them awake. "We provide you with fine beds and _bedrooms_ to go with it and you insist on falling asleep in an ungraceful heap in front of the fire." Hermione groggily opened her eyes and saw that the fire had burned out. Her friends were also waking up, in the same way she was.

"Don't be late for class," Professor McGonagall said and turned to leave. As she passed the still slumbering Ron, she gave him a sharp rap on the head. Ginny laughed as Ron bolted up. He checked his watch.

"Holy…five minutes to class and I have Potions! Snape will kill me."

"No," Dean said, falling off the couch. "_McGonagall_ will kill _me_."

"Ah, neither of them will," Harry said, rising in his uncaring fashion.

"Harry! You have Potions _with_ me," Ron said, his face turning red with impatience.

"Oh…right." As Ron and Dean hurried into their room to grab their notes and supplies, Lavender left through the Portrait Hole and Ginny folded the blankets and stacked them neatly on the couch.

"What class do you have?" Hermione asked her.

"Charms. Professor Flitwick's not strict on tardiness," Ginny said. Hermione was going to nod in answer when suddenly it happened again and Hermione only had enough thought left in her to turn away from Ginny as what felt like a hammer rammed into her temples.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice seemed to come from far away although she could still hear her friend's concern. Hermione made to wave her hand off as though she was fine but the action hurt too much, as though her bones were replaced with pins. She bent over as the sickening pain continued and the wetness around her eyes indicated that she was crying. Whether it was tears or blood was unclear at the moment, however. Although it felt like a million years, Hermione figured it was only a couple minutes at most when the pain had passed. It left her feeling sluggish and weak, as though now the pins in her body had been replaced with water. Hermione wiped at her face with her sleeve.

"Hermione, are you okay? What happened?" Ginny was pulling on Hermione's sleeve, frantically. Hermione wrenched her arm from Ginny's grasp.

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Get to class or I'm taking points." Hermione left through the portrait hole, even before Ginny could question her friend about the stains on her sleeves and the red around her eyes.

"I don't think that was morning crankiness," Harry remarked, from behind Ginny.

"No," she answered, softly. "I don't think it was at all."

oooooooooooooooooooooo


	19. Chapter Twenty

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:**

**:Chapter Twenty:**

"Something's wrong," Ginny said, shaking her head. "It's obviously not like her to be acting like this."

"Maybe we're wrong," Harry suggested. "Perhaps all of it _was_ just morning sickness. Or crankiness. Or whatever you want to call it." Ginny remembered Hermione's head spell and, although it was so hard to be completely accurate seeing as how Hermione turned around and left so quickly, there was something…something like blood on her face. But blood? Where would it come from? There was no sign of cuts of punctures of any sort on her face that night.

"Maybe we should contact Madame Pomfrey," she said. "It, whatever _it_ is, wasn't natural."

"So you're saying it's a magical infliction?" Harry's lunch sat in front of him, completely neglected. The students of Hogwarts milled around them, giving no notice to the surreal, quiet air that rested on two of the students. Ginny peeled her orange pensively and broke apart the little sections. What was it? What was going on with Hermione? Surely she would have said _something_ if she was sick…right? Then again who knew _what_ to expect from Hermione now after her injury. Was this some sort of backlash from her trauma?

"You tell me," she finally said, and slipped a piece of orange in her mouth. It left a sour taste in her mouth, just like all of those unanswered questions. Ginny wanted answers and she wanted them now.

"You know more about what is magical and what is natural. Is there any case of people…crying blood?" Harry's eyebrows rose.

"Crying real tears of blood?" Ginny nodded.

"And that's what you saw? With Hermione?" Harry seemed suddenly alarmed.

"I'm not completely sure," Ginny said, hesitantly. It was hard to be sure but…She thought again to that morning.

"Yes," she said. "Yes I am sure. She was." Harry sat back in his chair and they looked at each other with apprehension and concern and confusion.

"I'm not sure if this is something even Madame Pomfrey can fix," he finally said.

"Then it looks like we have some research to do."

* * *

Draco was enjoying the last rays of the sun. Most people didn't enjoy the fact that the sun went down at such an early hour during the wintertime but somehow, he didn't really mind. Most of his best work had been done in the cover of night anyway. The rock he sat on had absorbed the fragile warmth of winter and the lake water that lapped at his feet was frigid but he didn't mind; Draco liked the cold. At home, he slept with the windows open all year round, even when it snowed, leaving the maid, Martha, furious at the wet mess she had to clean up around the windows each morning. 

"I thought I'd find you here." Draco tilted his head.

"I thought you'd come around sometime," he said. "Pansy." The girl settled herself onto the rock next to Draco, pulling her heavy, fur trimmed cloak over her. She still shivered.

"You always did like the cold," she said. Draco smiled a little bit. Despite the fact that he would rather be eaten alive by hippogriffs than marry Pansy, it didn't change the fact that they'd known each other since birth which indicated that they also knew basically everything about each other. Draco pulled his hand out in front of him. It was deathly white.

"You look like a ghost," Pansy informed him, giving him a sidelong glance. Draco smiled again. She also had the uncanny ability to read his mind sometimes. One would think that this would add up to a soul mate, or something of the sort, but Draco regarded Pansy as a sister when he was in a good mood and merely an acquaintance when he wasn't feeling quite so charitable.

"Though not lucky enough to fade away at will," he said.

"Don't say that."

"You know better than anyone that I refuse to take orders," Draco warned her.

"I know." They watched the sun linger on the horizon, washing the lake into a shade of blood red.

"Looks like the sun slit his wrists, doesn't it," Draco said, and laughed heartily at his own comment. "Just look at all that blood. He's just keeps on bleeding and there's no one here to help. He has no mouth to scream with." Pansy kicked at the rock.

"Stop it," she said. "I hate it when you get like this."

"Get like what?" he challenged.

"Weird and psycho," Pansy grumbled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're turning into your father." Draco stopped laughing.

"Don't say that," he said, sounding sullen, and more like the young boy that Pansy grew up with.

"I'll say what I want. Draco, _you_ of all people should know that _I _do as I please as well."

"Not about Lucius," Draco said coldly.

"And why not?" It was Pansy's turn to sound challenging.

"Because at the end of the day, you're still in love and the feelings are still unreciprocated." That made Pansy grow silent and they both kept their eyes trained ahead as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. The moon seemed to creep out, cautiously, and wash away the mess that the sun had made in its last defiant stance. The lake changed from blood to silver.

"What I don't understand is why you're fighting this so much. We're meant to be together, it's always been like that. And you've never questioned it until this summer," Pansy said. Draco dipped a hand into the water and let it go numb.

"I've always questioned it," Draco finally said. "I've always wondered every birthday of my life that is this it? Is this all that I am destined for, an unhappy marriage to you, a job that my father approves of, and finally, taking over the family estates and fortune?"

"What are you talking about? Do you know how many wizards would kill to be in your position?"

"Yes," Draco said. "Yes and many have killed to try and get to my position. They can take it if they want. I don't want it."

"But _why_ not?" Pansy demanded. "What does this future not hold for you? You'll have money, power, influence, status, everything."

"Happiness. Love."

"As if you've ever found those qualities to be valuable," Pansy scoffed.

"Not until I lost them," he said.

"I won't be much trouble, Draco," Pansy said. She turned to him now and Draco purposefully took a long time to pull his blue hand back out from the water and wrap it up in his robes. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea, dipping his fingers into the lake at such a cold temperature. His hand was so cold it felt like liquid fire. Draco rubbed it, trying to prevent frostbite.

"Honestly, Draco, I won't. I'll bear your heir and I'll let you be. And maybe, one day, you'll come to tolerate, if not enjoy, my company. I may not give you love but what is love now? The best any of us can wish for is companionship and I can give that." Draco still didn't answer her. Pansy knew better than to expect an answer from Draco.

"Then you hate me that much?" she finally said.

"No, not hate," Draco said. "I don't waste my time on hating those who have no use to me."

"Then you would hate Potter? And Granger? Oh, but you don't anymore, do you? You love that little mudblood." Draco shrugged and gave her a strange smile.

"What is love now? You said so yourself."

"Whatever you think it is, Draco, you're wrong. It doesn't exist. It's all hormones, confusion, your sanity is hanging on the edge, don't you see? All you Malfoys have such weak minds. You always have and you always will. Maybe what they say is right. Brilliance is edged with insanity."

"And stubbornness is edged with stupidity," Draco answered. "I won't marry you, if that's what you're asking me. I would rather rot away with insanity than marry you."

"I know that," Pansy said. "But we still will. You will marry me even if it takes your father to drag you down the aisle."

"Then I guess I'll just have to kill myself before then, won't I?" The strange, careless words teamed with the twisted grin chilled Pansy to the bone.

"Don't say that," she whispered. Draco didn't answer and dipped his hand back into the water.

* * *

"Have you found anything, Harry?" Ginny asked. Harry was seated on the ground of the library, a stack of books next to him and one on his lap. His forehead was wrinkled with concentration as he drew his finger down the page, skimming for any information whatsoever that might be a clue to what was wrong with his friend. 

"No such luck," Harry said, sighing. He arched his back and it cracked as he stretched his arms over his head. "How about you?"

"Nothing, except for these dratted statues in Italy. Apparently, it's fairly common in Italy for religious statues to start crying tears of blood, or something with a likeness to it. It's related to stigmata, I believe, but it's not what we're looking for."

"Maybe we're not _looking_ in the right place," Harry said, kicking at a book by his foot in frustration.

"I don't think it's a muggle infliction," Ginny said. "We've looked at every medical encyclopedia and religious references. It's not here; it has to be magical."

It was when they were combing through all of the medical, magical infliction encyclopedias that Harry came across something.

"Here," he said. "Ginny, over here." She hurried herself over from where she was sitting at the table to the ground where Harry was.

"Tears of blood are the physical manifestation of the pain that the insane and traumatized endure," Ginny read.

"Insane?" Harry echoed. Ginny kept on reading.

"This is an uncommon ailment for it only happens when the patient's psyche is being split into two. The body cannot handle this pain and the pain is released through tears of blood. This is a warning sign that all must heed. Other side effects can include irritability and loss of appetite. If untreated, the patient's psyche would completely split into two parts, leaving their mind broken. At this point, the body cannot survive without the mind and the patient would die.

There are several treatments for this ailment. The most popular one would be to completely dissolve the part of the patient's psyche that is pulling away from the whole. Although this is the safest method of restoring the patient's sanity, they are subject to lose large parts of their memory or functioning abilities. A more outdated treatment that is rarely used is when a powerful wizard/witch, using anchors of other witches and wizards, would travel into the patient's mind to mend the split. If successful, the patient would return to their previous state of being but if the treatment is unsuccessful, both the traveler and the patient and all anchors involved would be lost." Ginny and Harry sat back, digesting the information.

"I think this is it," Ginny said. "She's forced herself to forget this summer. She's essentially divided her mind since then. I don't understand. Why didn't Madame Pomfrey anticipate this? What didn't she realize this would happen?"

"This is rare," Harry said, looking at the book again. "The last recorded case was in 1876 when Phileus Phlegm started sporadically crying tears of blood and his saliva would change to blood. His family attempted this second procedure and apparently the records don't show whether they were successful or not."

"Well we have to tell Hermione about this, and the faculty," Ginny said, frantic.

"I know, I know," Harry said. What would become of Hermione now? He wasn't sure he wanted an answer anymore. But if they stalled any longer…

"We find Draco first. And then we'll go to Dumbledore."

"But…what about Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Maybe we should ask her about this."

"She…" Harry frowned in concentration. He knew his friend well but had this accident changed her into a different person?

"If she's still the Hermione we know," Harry said, carefully. "Then if she had gotten help from the faculty and found out what a serious dilemma this was…she would have told us. But it seems like she's in denial right now, or she's waiting things out to see if they get worse."

"But there isn't any indication of how worse things could get before she…" Ginny's voice trailed off.

"Which is why we're going to ask Dumbledore for help," Harry said. "Come on, we have to find Draco."

"Hogwarts is enormous," Ginny said. "We don't know how much time we have!" Harry smiled wryly.

"You've forgotten," he said. "I still have the Marauder's Map."

"Then let's make haste."

* * *

"Draco! Draco!" Draco heard his voice being called and he felt Pansy beside him stiffen with surprise. He turned around, recognizing the voice. 

"Harry?" he asked, surprised. It was Harry, with Ginny at his heels, both looking unnaturally nervous and pale in the moonlight.

"Draco, something is wrong with Hermione. It's serious and we need to get to Dumbledore fast," Ginny gasped, trying to catch her breath. Harry nodded.

"She's right. The sooner the better." Draco had come to life at the sound of Hermione's name and was on his feet already, moving towards the castle. Pansy had watched the whole interaction with interest and distaste.

"Is that what you choose, Draco? If I do recall correctly, you had told Harry Potter not to make the same choice you have made, dabbling with mudbloods and muggle lovers like Weasley." It took all of Draco's self control not to run back and strangle Pansy and push her cold, dead carcass into the lake.

"I have no time for your prejudices, Pansy," he said, his voice clipped. He started back for Hogwarts at a run and only after a second, Harry and Ginny followed, leaving Pansy alone in the dark.

"Where's Dumbledore's office?" Ginny called. Both Draco and Harry had been there before so they ran without stopping into through the corridors, up the stairs to the second floor until they came across the gargoyle statue. Then they realized they didn't know the password. Draco started pounding at it.

"Professor Dumbledore!" The statue was unmoveable as Draco struck his fists against it, his knuckles flecked red with blood.

"The map, Harry! The map!" Ginny urged. The enormity of the situation had finally settled on them at last and they realized that Hermione was a time bomb that could go off any minute. Harry fumbled with the map and opened it.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!" he gasped, and the map seemed to materialize too slowly for them. Draco paused at his continuous pounding on the unyielding statue to look upon the map for the first time, impressed.

"He's in there," Harry said. Then he frowned. "And so is…" The doorway, at that moment, opened and Harry shoved the map back into his pocket with a muttered, "Mischief managed." They stumbled up the stairs and fell through the doorway into Dumbledore's office.

"Professor Dumbledore!" they cried. They found Dumbledore sitting at his desk without his usual, amiable twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes," he said. "I've been having the most interesting chat with Ms. Granger just now." Harry was expecting her to be there; he saw it on the map. But Ginny and Draco hadn't and gasped audibly when they realized she was sitting at Dumbledore's desk as well. Hermione stood up slowly and turned around, her fingers and the corners of her eyes slightly red with blood.

"I think we need to talk," she whispered. Dumbledore nodded.

"Emergency faculty meeting will be assembled immediately," he said.

* * *


	20. Chapter Twentyone

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty-one :**

Time seemed to pass in a strange sort of way. It seemed to blur around the edges as the scenery does when one is riding in a fast moving vehicle. Then, at the same time, it seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to do the simplest things, such as arranging the chairs in a circle in Dumbledore's office, for the faculty meeting. No one could really tell how much time had passed when finally the last faculty member had entered the room and sat down. The air was still for a moment and then Dumbledore drew a breath.

Hermione felt discomfort, seating in the circle among her teachers, but felt Draco's hand on her own and his fingers twine through hers. She glanced over gratefully. His was looking intently on Dumbledore, who seemed to be picking through what to say. On Hermione's other side was Harry looking unnaturally pale and worried and next to him was Ginny, biting her lip and gripping the sides of her seat.

"I've called you here for a reason that concerns one of our most beloved students," Dumbledore finally said. The faculty seemed to have guessed that much as they looked at the four students. Which one?

"There is no…exact name of this ailment," he continued. "I'm afraid the best way I can put it is that Hermione Granger has been crying tears of blood." There was an audible stilt among the faculty. Madame Pomfrey drew a shuddering gasp. Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed tightly together, the edges turning white while Professor Snape sat completely unmoving like stone, except for his hands that gripped the chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Still, some others looked at Dumbledore with confusion.

"I'm afraid I do not quite grasp the gravity of the situation," Professor Flitwick finally said. "My expertise lay in charms not in medical conditions."

"This ailment is the result of a splitting psyche," Dumbledore said. "And for such, there is only one cure."

"We must dissolve the errant portion of her mind," Madame Pomfrey said, in a low voice. Harry exchanged a look with Ginny. Would it be smart to bring up the other possibility? The outdated, dangerous method? If successful, it would hail superior results. Harry shook his head. It would never be considered among these practical wizards and witches. There must be a reason why Dumbledore did not bring it up; Harry hardly doubted the Dumbledore did not know of it.

"But how is this possible? This is…we've _heard_ of this but…surely we all believed it to be myth?" Professor Trelawney said.

"Myth or not, it doesn't matter anymore," Snape snapped. "It's happening as we speak." Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Suddenly, seeing all of her professors worrying made her realize that her life really, truly _was_ on the line home. Draco, as though feeling her fear, squeezed her fingers even tighter.

"Ms. Granger has informed me that she appears to have lost her memory from this summer. Unfortunately, it was not a simple memory charm that has done this to her. She has suppressed these memories for personal reasons, now unknown for even she cannot remember or be forced to remember, and it was from this suppression that the split-psyche has begun."

"How will we go about solving this?" McGonagall asked. Her voice was crisp and held a business-like authority to it. Hermione was thankful for this. Her professor's no-nonsense behavior was strangely comforting.

"It will be similar to the memory charm," Dumbledore said. "Although more complex. We are not merely erasing or going over certain parts of her mind. We will have to completely dissolve it."

"What are the side-effects to this?" Draco suddenly asked. Madame Pomfrey looked over with an apologetic expression that made Hermione's blood run cold through its corridors and chill her to the bone.

"Parts of your personality, your functioning abilities, would be lost, I'm afraid," Madame Pomfrey said. "Doing a rough diagnosis, I'm afraid…the _magical_ part of you…It would not be gone but it would be proven faulty after the procedure is over."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Hermione said, hesitantly.

"It will not be _because_ of the dissolving that you lose your magical abilities," said Snape in a softer, gentler voice than they had ever heard before. "But because of the parts of your mind that you lose, it would essentially be dangerous for you to practice magic. Your body and mind are self-preserving. Because of this danger, it would immediately shut down the magical part of your body."

"But why?" Hermione asked. Her voice was strangely calm. "How much of myself will I lose?"

"I'm afraid it's hard to be exact before we actually go through with the dissolving process," Dumbledore said. "But you will lose a large part of your memory. The parts you have suppressed will be gone forever and it is more than possible that all things associated with the suppressed memory will also be gone. Thus if you had thought of magic or the magic world at all during the summer…you will not remember any of this. It is dangerous to practice magic without understanding it. And that is why you will lose your magical abilities." Hermione sat back, stunned. Why was this happening to her? She had such a strong desire to turn back time to stop this that she was about to start sobbing, wailing, and screaming.

"Severus, we will need a potion for you that will act as anesthesia. We need her to be asleep when we do the dissolving. I will need your help, Filius, for you said that your expertise lay in charms." Professor Dumbledore closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them, he looked older than ever.

"I will need all of your help."

"When will this happen?" Hermione asked.

"As soon as the potion is ready. You are at an extremely volatile state right now and we do not know when your mind may split completely in two." Hermione understood that Dumbledore found her, found her and her friends, mature enough to take this with no sugar-coating.

"When can the potion be ready?" Dumbledore asked.

"Give me twenty-four hours," Snape answered.

"Well then," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands together. "We reconvene here in twenty-four hours." The faculty dispersed but not without a few reassuring nods and grips of the shoulder on Hermione.

"I hardly think you would like to spend the next twenty four hours here?" Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows, looking over his half-moon spectacles. He produced what appeared to look a lot like a mechanical bug.

"This will buzz when you are needed. Come to my office when it does." Dumbledore finally smiled.

"Do not look so wretched, my children. All will be well in due time." He gave them a nod and excused them. Hermione felt salty wetness in the corners of her eyes that indicated that for once it was real tears. They walked out of Dumbledore's office in silence, down the stone stairs, until they were standing in the empty hallway.

What was she really going to do for the next twenty-four hours? Bid everyone she knows a farewell because she will never see them again? She won't even _remember_ them. Hermione looked at Ginny, Harry, and Draco and felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. It seemed so strange that she would no longer see them again. She thought of Ron, Neville, Parvati and Lavender (despite their silliness), Seamus and Dean, the rest of the Weasleys, and felt even lower.

"Well, it was nice knowing you," Hermione said, attempting humor. Her smile failed miserably. Hermione was surprised to see the determined expression on Harry's face, however.

"Ginny, get Ron and meet me in the library," he said.

"What?" Hermione said, but Ginny seemed to understand. She nodded and left them, sprinting. Hermione looked over at Draco who looked equally puzzled.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as Harry gripped her wrist and they started off running towards the library.

"Not losing you."

* * *


	21. Chapter Twenty two

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty-Two :**

"Wait, I don't understand, what's going on?" Hermione asked, as they skidded into the Library. Harry seemed to know exactly what he was looking for as he produced a book and flipped through the earmarked pages. He shoved the open page into Hermione.

"Read this." Hermione studied the page, Draco reading over her shoulder. A smile started to grow on Draco's face.

"This is it," he said, quietly. "This is _it_."

"Is there even a name for this procedure?" Hermione asked, trying to remain sensible.

"The _alluminatum_," Harry said. "We can look up exact incantation and directions right here, right now."

"You're crazy," she said, looking at her friend. "I don't…you can't possibly think that a group of seventeen year olds can pull off a magical procedure this complicated, this _outdated_ and not expect a…the…the consequences if this goes wrong!"

"No," Harry answered, slowly. "I'm not saying that a group of seventeen year olds can pull this off but I'm saying that _we_ can."

"Harry's right," Draco said. "You're the best witch of our year. Harry's not half bad himself." Harry cuffed Draco's shoulder.

"And neither is Draco," Harry finished. "You didn't honestly think we would let you go without a fight, did you?" Hermione stared at the page until it turned blurry. She blinked several times and when her vision cleared, there were several spots of blood on the page.

"Okay," she whispered. "We'll do this." That was all the prompting Harry needed as he rushed to find the _alluminatum_ procedure in detail.

"I don't…magic depends on how well you know yourself," Hermione said. "I don't…if this mind break that has happened to me…do you think it'll affect the procedure in any way?" Draco looked at Hermione carefully as he thought it out.

"I don't know," he honestly said. "But think about it, Hermione. Close your eyes and forget everything right now. Just let it go." She did as he said.

"Can you tell me who Hermione Granger is?" Hermione felt her eyebrow descend in concentration. Could she? Who was she, honestly? After all the changes and memory losses, who was she really?

An image appeared in her mind's eye, blurry at first. As it made itself clear, Hermione saw Harry, Ron, and Ginny. There were her parents. Her first wand. Her first day at Hogwarts. And there was that extended hand in the hallway when she felt so alone, and the sad, kind smile. There was Draco. Okay, she knew what was around her. Now she just…works her way in. Messy, tangled brown hair, brown eyes, that little smug smirk that she catches herself making when she gets something right. The innate sense of righteousness that she's sometimes ashamed to admit. And her fierce loyalty to her friends. Yes. That was who Hermione Granger was and that is who she still is.

"Yes," she said. At that moment, Ginny and Ron burst through the doors.

"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Ron demanded. Hermione exchanged a look with Draco and Ginny.

"It'll take an awful long time," she started.

"And we don't have time," finished Harry, who appeared with the incantation.

"So, how bad is it? What are the preparations?" Draco asked. Harry studied the list.

"It's actually not that bad," he said. "All things considered, it could be a lot worse."

"Well?" Ginny prompted. "Let's hear it."

"Well, firstly, we're not to be disturbed. None of our concentration must break during the procedure or else…well, let your imagination figure it out. The procedure will take roughly six hours."

"Six hours?" Hermione echoed. "The faculty, they'll be breaking down any door to get to us if we don't go to Dumbledore's office in an hour." She checked her watch. "Forget that, in _twenty_ minutes!"

"The faculty? Dumbledore's office?" Ron burst out. He had been doing his best to keep quiet but his head was in a whirlwind. What was going on?

"Is there anything else needed? Any other supplies?" Ginny asked.

"No," Harry said, frowning. "Just us. But Hermione's right. Could we use an empty classroom? Put a Silencing charm on it?

"I know how to conceal the door from the outside," Draco offered.

"The faculty could probably still track us down," Hermione said, starting to fret. Ginny looked at Harry, Hermione, and Ron incredulously.

"Are you all really that daft?"

"Well, if you have a better idea, I suggest you share it," Ron said, irritably. "Or at least tell me what is going on!" Ginny looked at them, eyebrow cocked in near amusement.

"You've all forgotten. We have the Room of Requirement."

"Room of Requirement? Is this a Gryffindor thing?" Draco asked, looking at the expressions of mutual understanding among the others.

"No, it's a 'let's head on up to the seventh floor and we'll tell you on the way' thing," Harry said and started off at a run towards the exit of the library, Draco on his heels. The rest soon followed. As Hermione ran after them, Ron muttered to Ginny, "Since when did we hang out with Malfoy?" His sister gave him a pointed look.

"Just go along with it, okay? It'll be easier." Ron shrugged and the two followed the rest up three flights of stairs to the seventh floor.

* * *

Finding the room was relatively easy. Harry had been fretting that it might already be in use. 

"Please let us find it," he muttered, as they run up and down the corridor. After only two short minutes, they found an innocuous looking door that they had not passed before.

"I think this is it," Hermione said, and paused for a moment, her hand on the doorknob. Then she pushed it open and they found a carpeted, window-less room with five cushions on the ground. When they entered, the door closed soundlessly behind them and Ginny locked it from the inside. Somehow, Hermione felt she wouldn't be surprised if the door had completely hidden itself from the outside. The room was pleasantly warm and almost any sound was immediately swallowed up in a way she could not quite understand.

"Okay," Draco said, glancing at the parchment that Harry had been holding. It looks like three will be anchors and one will travel into Hermione's mind." Draco looked at everyone. They were all equally qualified for the job of the traveler; they all knew Hermione well.

"Ginny and Ron would make good anchors," Draco decided, suddenly. "Their family ties would strengthen the rope."

"Rope?" Hermione echoed.

"Essentially, what is happening is that the anchors create a lifeline. So if you were to get completely technical, there is only _one_ anchor. He would be nearest to this world, if you will," Harry said, trying to explain. Seeing the confused expressions, he tried again.

"Imagine you are swimming," he said. "The boat is the real world. The water is Hermione's mind. And to swim through the waters without a rope connecting to the boat would be to kill yourself. Two would be the robe. One would be the anchor that connects the boat to the rope. And one will be the swimmer."

"And I'm the ocean," Hermione finished, dryly. Harry shrugged.

"That's the best I can explain it, I'm afraid."

"I'll be the swimmer," Draco suddenly said. "Harry is the anchor. Ginny and Ron are to be the rope."

"What?" Harry said. "But Hermione has _forgotten_ you from this summer. How do you expect to navigate through her mind if she doesn't remember you?"

"On a conscious level," Draco argued. "I haven't been erased completely. That's what Dumbledore said."

"But still," Harry said, wanting to argue further. Draco shook his head.

"No time, it's settled." Draco turned to Ron and Ginny.

"If anything, _anything_ starts to go wrong, cut the rope from Harry immediately. If there's even the slightest possibility that it'll fail, I don't care if it'd be killing yourselves and me and Hermione, you cut yourselves from Harry. If you don't, I swear there will be hell to pay if any of us survive."

"Stop it," Harry said. "Why are you singling me out? I don't need to be protected, I don't-"

"Harry!" Harry was stunned into silence by the sound of the other boy's shout. The others were silent. The tension was thick and suffocating.

"Don't you understand," Draco said, searching Harry's face. "Don't you understand _at all_ what we're risking? _We can't afford to lose you_. The whole wizarding world can't. This is an enormous risk we're taking right now, even using you as an anchor."

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said, softly. "You shouldn't even be doing this but I know we can't stop you. But if needed, we'll all sacrifice our lives for you. We have to." Harry looked at Ginny and Ron who looked as though they shared opinion.

"Fine," he said. "But let's pray that it won't have to come to that." They all settled down onto the pillows and looked at each other. They all mirrored each other's pale, wide-eyed expressions.

"This is it," Draco murmured. "No practice, no trial runs, we have to get this on our first shot."

"We'll do it," Ginny said, confidently. "I trust us." Draco looked over at Hermione who looked pale but calm.

"Okay," she said, exhaling. "Let's do it."

* * *

_Ten_

Ron scratched at his ear one last time before settling down to concentrate and follow the incantation that they had to memorize only a minute earlier. He was surprised to find that he wasn't stumbling over the difficult words.

_Nine_

Professor Flitwick looked at the complicated spell needed to dissolve Hermione's memory and shuddered. He had thought he would live his life without having to do something as permanent as this spell.

_Eight_

Hermione felt a strange, buzzing feeling wash over her as the incantation began. She hoped they would get this right.

_Seven_

Snape wiped sweat from his brow as he hurried to Professor Dumbledore's office with the potion still bubbling in the phial in his hand. He ran through the ingredients and procedure in his head, double-checking his work although if he realized a mistake, it would be too late now to fix it. The potion in his hand was what they would use and he'd have to trust himself to know he created it correctly.

_Six_

McGonagall waited impatiently and nervously. She never thought that Hogwarts would lose a student this way. She looked at Dumbledore; he merely regarded her with his usual, calm expression.

_Five_

Dumbledore looked at the bug buzzer on his desk and pressed it. The eyes of the bug glowed red and it started to buzz and he knew its mate was somewhere in the castle and with its mate would be his students.

_Four_

The other buzzer started vibrating on a forgotten table in the library.

_Three_

Draco took a deep breath to calm himself. He felt himself shake loose from his physical body as he felt a thick rope fall over his head and wrap itself around his stomach. It was bright red, like the Weasley's hair. He couldn't help smiling.

_Two_

Harry felt his magic pool and spread around him, anchoring him securely to the physical world. Wrapped around his wrist was one end of the crimson rope. He gripped it tightly despite the burning.

_One_

* * *

Snape entered Dumbledore's office to find Dumbledore standing before his desk with a grave expression on his face. McGonagall's face was equally stony and Flitwick had a hand pressed to his temple. Standing next to Dumbledore was the librarian, Irma Pince. She held out the bug buzzer that was still vibrating in her hand. 

"The children are gone," Dumbledore said. The faculty members looked at one another.

"Then we must find them," McGonagall said. She stood up to move towards the door.

"You might all stand there looking grave and concerned but I refuse to stand around while my students endanger themselves." That seemed to revive the faculty as they suddenly came to life and followed her out the door.

* * *


	22. Chapter Twenty three

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty-three : **

Draco closed his eyes, concentrating on the incantation that they had hurriedly memorized five minutes earlier. He felt warmth wash over him, as though he had suddenly jumped into a bath. A buzzing gathered underneath his skin that grew stronger as the incantation went on. He could hear his everyone's voices mingling with his own and his heart quickened. It was too late to turn back _now_ but Draco couldn't help the little snarky, second thoughts that were hissing in the far corners of his brain. With a scowl, Draco pushed them away.

It was only after the incantation was over that he chanced to open his eyes. He found grayness all around him and he was completely alone. The Room of Requirement, and everyone in it, had disappeared. Draco couldn't tell if this place was indoors or outside. He looked around and despite the monotone scenery he decided he must be outdoors for the lack of walls and ceiling. The ground beneath him was firm and a gray as well and it felt cool to the touch like cement.

He took two hesitant steps forward when suddenly, he felt something warm circle around his waist. Draco looked down to find a fiery, red robe there. The robe continued up into the sky where it disappeared. Draco gave it an experimental tug.

"Well? How are you guys doing?" Draco inquired. He figured no one could actually hear him so he nearly fell over in shock when he had an answer.

"Do you really have to ask?" came Ginny's voice, echoing from above.

"It worked! This is amazing, I can hear you guys in my head," said Harry. "At least…I don't think I heard you guys with my ears." His voice seemed further away; it was faint whereas Ginny's was loud and clear.

"Where are you guys?" Draco asked, frowning in thought.

"Right here," said Harry, uncertainly. Draco suddenly realized that Harry was still in the Room of Requirement and that he would merely stay in a meditative state while he and the Weasley's minds had traveled to another dimension.

"This is so weird," Draco muttered.

"You think you're having a tough time?" said Ron, sounding irritated. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is being stuck between two realms? Not to mention having to spin these stupid ropes."

"Is that what this is?" Draco asked, tugging at the crimson threads around his waist.

"Well, hurry up and fix Hermione," urged Ginny.

"How?" Draco asked, practically. Now that the procedure seemingly worked, he didn't know what to do.

"I don't know," she said, scathingly. "Figure it out, walk around or something." Draco shook his head seeing that both Weasleys were easily irritated. He didn't blame them though; they seemed to be taking the biggest strain in the entire operation. Draco took her advice and just started walking in a random direction. He noted that his clothes had changed. He was wearing a gray shirt and pants and his shoes appeared to be missing. He shrugged to himself; it wasn't awfully cold or anything, he'd have to make do.

Draco quickened his pace but he had the strangest sensation that he ran while everything stayed still. The scenery refused to change.

"Nothing's happening," Draco said. "I feel like I'm turning in circles."

"Well keep trying," Ron, Ginny, and Harry chorused. Draco started running. He closed his eyes as he ran and examined this strange place using his other senses. There was nothing to be heard except for the sound of his bare feet hitting the smooth, gray floor and his breathing. Occasionally, one of his friends would say something indeterminable. He figured they were talking amongst themselves.

Draco could smell nothing in this place; it was about as dull as a sheet of plain paper. There was nothing here. He opened his eyes and still the scenery had not changed. He didn't know how long he ran but Draco's breathing became more labored and he realized, a little faintly, that his feet were bleeding. Draco turned around to find footprints etched in blood stretching to as far as the horizon.

"Well, at least I know I'm not running around in circles now," he muttered. He had been running for so long, expecting nothing that it was only when he had stepped on the object that he realized it was there. He paused and knelt to the ground to look at it.

It was a Time Turner.

"I found a Time Turner!" Draco called. He studied it in his hands. He had never held one before now but he knew what it looked like thanks to his ambitious father who had desired one for a long time.

"I think you're getting closer," Harry said, excitedly.

"I guess," Draco said, doubtfully. "I guess this is better than nothing."

"No, you don't get it," Harry said, hurriedly. "Hermione used a Time Turner back in third year. You're getting close to her mind." Draco started running again. After an indeterminable amount of time, he found a textbook strewn on the ground. He didn't even pause to look at it as he ran even faster. Textbooks grew more frequent and so did other things that were reminiscent of Hermione and everything that she had ever encountered. Draco swore he even saw a mangled looking orange cat glare as he passed by.

He finally came to a chasm in the unending ground. He stopped at the edge and looked down. The drop was unfathomable and it was pitch black. There a wind blew furiously as objects flew in the cyclone that blew in the air above the chasm.

"Well, this is it," Draco said. Harry started reading to him the second set of incantations and Draco repeated them. As he did so, a thick, golden rope started to appear in his hands. When the length was so long that the golden coils were escaping Draco's hands, the incantations were over. Draco hesitantly took a step off the cement floor onto the open air and found that he didn't necessarily need ground to walk upon in this particular dimension. He crossed with ease and found a convenient metal loop firmly attached to the ground on the other side of the chasm. Draco tied one end of the golden rope there and walked back to the other end. There, he started to pull on the rope.

He didn't know how long he stood there, trying to dig his heels into the ground as he pulled on the rope. His arms strained and the rope that he had looped around his wrists for a better grip was digging into his skin painfully. Perspiration started to form on his brow and upper lip. He drew in a breath as he kept pulling, blinking sweat and tears from his eyes.

For the longest time, nothing happened. A small part of Draco's mind started to say in an infuriating voice, _you weren't strong enough. It's not working_. Even so, Draco kept pulling until he could hardly feel his arms anymore. At this point, Draco felt completely detached from his straining arms, his cramping legs, and his bleeding feet. He felt completely detached from his entire body. It was his force of will that kept him from giving up.

And then it happened. The rope pulled forward a fraction of a centimeter, a millimeter. But it had moved. And the healing was happening. The mess around him of Hermione paraphernalia was starting to disappear. Objects were starting to be pulled by the wind that was blowing even harder into the black void before Draco.

He pulled even harder and set his feet even more firmly into the ground, trying not to slip in his own blood. The wind was pulling at him. Then suddenly, the rope around his waist jerked and twitched and threw Draco off his feet and he momentarily lost a grip on the golden rope. He grabbed at it fiercely.

"It would be really nice if that didn't happen again," Draco called. He could _feel_ the others' frowns.

"It's…it's the faculty," Harry said, hesitantly. "They're knocking on the door."

"They found it?" Ginny asked. "I thought the Room would conceal us until we were done!"

"Apparently at the moment, the faculty's requirement of finding us seems a bit more urgent," Harry said, wryly.

"Well tell them to stop if they don't want to kill all of us," Ron snapped, irritably. That's when it hit all of them how dangerous this was. They could die doing this. The rope around Draco's waist continued to move.

"They have to stop," Ginny gasped. "They're breaking my concentration." Draco regained his balance and tried to ignore the uncomfortable movement around his waist as he pulled at the rope. Once the chasm started to close, it was easier to pick up momentum. He pulled at it but then was thrown off his feet the second time. This time, a loud clamor flooded Draco's ears and suddenly, even the angry wind was drowned out by the voices of the worried faculty.

"They have to stop," Draco said, urgently. "Harry, can't you do something?"

"By talking to them, I'm pulling myself out of the meditation," Harry answered. His voice sounded frantic. "It would break the chain and all of your minds would be lost."

"But we can't _do_ anything like this," Draco said, angry at himself and the faculty. He slammed his fists into the ground, on his knees, unable to stand. The shouts of the faculty combined with the wind and the unpredictable movement of the rope around his waist, he couldn't stand, or even straighten. The faculty was going to kill all of them. Objects were being flown from the chasm and Draco gritted his teeth against the pain as the corner of a textbook hit him on the forehead. He pressed a palm against it and his hand came away red.

Then, something happened that none of them were expecting. The crimson rope started to fray and strain.

"Oh no," Ginny said, lowly.

"What's happening? What's going on?" Harry asked, wrought with anxiety.

"It's the break in our concentration," Ron answered. "It's like they're screaming in our ears. It's causing the rope to weaken." Draco grabbed at the crimson rope with one hand and continued to tug at the golden one. It pulled closer to him. It was getting closer now. If he wasn't distracted, he could have finished this in half the time. A thread of the crimson rope suddenly snapped.

"Hurry," Harry said, urgently, but Draco couldn't help noticing that his voice was faint as though he was dying.

"I don't know how long it will hold," Ginny said. Her voice held the same weak quality. Draco put his concentration on pulling. It was moving, slowly but surely. And another thread of the red rope snapped. Draco didn't let himself become distracted by it and kept pulling.

"Harry, make sure to pull out of the meditation if things go awry," Draco said, through gritted teeth.

"Do you honestly think I'd do that?" scoffed his friend. His voice sounded light, masking deep concern. Draco didn't answer as he continued to pull. The chasm was picking up speed, starting to rapidly close, but the continuing snapping of the red threads were also quickening in pace. The wind was screaming in his ears and the shouts of the faculty were becoming nearly unbearable. Draco tasted iron in his mouth. He put out the last reserves of his strength and pulled, shouting out with pain.

The two sides of the chasm met and the split suddenly became illuminated with a blinding light. The last of the crimson rope snapped away from Draco to whip around in the wind and disappear and the screams of Ginny were the last thing Draco heard as he passed out even before his head hit the ground.

* * *

Draco felt softness beneath his cheek. He was lying down. He put out a hand to feel what was beneath him. His fingers plucked at a soft blanket that smelled of sun dried sheets. Draco opened his eyes. He appeared to be on a bed in the middle of a clearing in a forest. He was wearing a crisp, clean white linen shirt and pants with simple, silver embroidery. He marveled at it. It was almost an exact replica of the gray outfit he found himself wearing earlier but somehow…different. It seemed to be infused with sun and happiness instead of uncertainty like the gray clothes. 

"What…" His voice trailed off before it even formed a question but unlike before, his friends' voices didn't echo from the ceiling.

"Am I dead?" he wondered out loud. He looked around himself and groaned as he sat up and swung his feet around to the side of the bed and let them rest on the mossy ground. The forest was completely silent and while the complete silence in the gray realm was uncomfortable, this forest was merely tranquil and calm. His memory started to return slowly. He seemed likely that he_ was_ dead, now. The rope did indeed snap but not before Hermione's mind split was completed. Did Hermione survive or was the fact that his mind was in hers that could have killed her too? Draco felt himself feeling strangely rested and happy despite his realizations. He turned his face up to greet the sun and couldn't help a smile. He inhaled deeply and found the rich scents of the forest delicious.

"Hello Draco." He turned around to find Hermione sitting at the edge of the bed, smiling at him. The best thing about her expression was the recognition in her face.

"You remember me," he said, reaching out to hold her cheek in his hand.

"I remember you," she said. "I remember everything now."

"Where are we?" Draco asked, gesturing about himself. Hermione smiled slowly and moved closer to him.

"You should lie down; you're not completely healed yet. You won't be until Madame Pomfrey takes a look at you." She pushed him slowly back down into a laying position and touched the bruised gash on Draco's forehead with a frown. Draco savored the touch of her cool fingertips.

"Wait what? Madame Pomfrey? I'm not dead?" he asked, incredulously. "I mean, _we_ aren't?" Hermione laughed and the sound seemed to ring in the air like glass. It had been such a long time since he had heard the sound.

"Of course not!" she said. "The mending of my mind was complete when the rope that held you to Ginny and Ron snapped. If it had snapped before, then the chasm would have completely, well, eaten you up, I guess. I would have died as well, I believe. Or maybe I would have suddenly inhabited your personality traits." Hermione grinned.

"But I guess we'll never know for sure now," she said. "Because the rope snapped _after_ the split was completely mended, you're entirely safe. I'm just, how do I say this, housing you in my mind until the incantation runs its course. It was supposed to last six hours, remember? Well, thanks to your superior strength, it was completed early."

"So this is your mind?" Draco looked around himself. "It looks a lot different now."

"Probably has to do with the mended split," Hermione said, and looked around as well.

"I think I like it better now," Draco said, decidedly. Hermione laughed again.

"Don't get too comfortable," she advised. "You'll eventually be sent back to your own body once the magic of the incantation ends." Draco shrugged.

"We have time." Hermione leaned over Draco and kissed him, smiling.

"Thank you, Draco," she said. Draco offered a grin.

"Anytime," he said, laughing. "Anytime."

* * *


	23. Chapter Twenty Four

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty-Four :**

Draco was lying there, on the bed, smiling as the sun seemed to dance around his skin. Hermione hummed as she absently twisted her fingers through his flaxen hair.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, glancing down at him. Draco opened an eye.

"Nothing in particular," he said. "It feels so nice that maybe, _maybe_ everything's fine now. I mean, I'm hoping that things will _stay_ fine."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said, laughing a little. She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "But for now, I think I'm content with remembering you." Draco was almost stupefied by the tranquility around him, the absolute _bliss_ of the warmth of sunshine and the feel of Hermione's lips.

"I think I'd go mad if you forgot me," she said, grinning. Draco returned the smile and let his eyes close again, sleepily.

"I think I was going mad," he murmured. With his eyes closed, he wasn't expecting the feel of Hermione's lips again, on the corner of his mouth. He let her kiss him and he felt his own lips curve into a grin. It was absolutely entrancing, being there, in the tranquil forest. Half asleep, it all felt like a dream and Draco supposed that in a way, it was a dream. He languorously shifted his weight to his side and pulled Hermione down until they were lying side by side with their noses nearly touching.

"I missed you, even when I didn't remember you," she whispered. Her eyes were closed and her lashes were golden in the sunlight. They were both nearly half-asleep. Draco kissed each half-halo beneath her eyes. Hermione felt as though in a pool of delicious honey. Each movement was done languidly and seemingly dipped in gold. Draco's fingers moved dexterously until the white shift that Hermione had been wearing was on the forest floor. Hermione smiled at the warmth of the sun on her skin. The white linen sheets beneath her felt deliciously soft and warm. Without thinking or opening her eyes, she traced her fingers against Draco's pale, soft skin and he let her pull off the white tunic.

His lips were against her golden skin, murmuring secrets, tracing a path along her shoulder to her collarbone and back. And then they just lay there, murmuring to each other about the past few weeks, the summer, and everything in between, sometimes just letting their mouths dance with one another. Hermione loved and missed Draco and his pale skin, gleaming in the sun, the way the light filtered through his hair and his thin, red lips. He ran a hand through her curls, scattering pale, pink petals liberally and randomly, as he pleased. Hermione tasted honey in her mouth and on Draco's lips.

He kissed her erratically down her body and Hermione laughed as he kissed her stomach. Draco let his tongue dance on her soft, skin, savoring the sweet taste. He circled her bellybutton and when Hermione pulled him up, gently, he traced a torturous tongue along her jaw to her ear. He was whispering words into her hair and tracing his mouth against her neck.

When they finally moved as one, it was slow and delicious, as sweet and languid as a slice of rich cake in bed on a sunny, Sunday morning. It was playful as they rolled around again and again on the vast bed, laughing and kissing in turn. And they held each other like a still pool. Draco smiled when he felt Hermione's gilded lashes against his cheek. She was tucked underneath his arm as they lay on their backs, letting the sun be their blanket. Hermione nibbled absently on a flower petal.

"Maybe I shouldn't go back," Draco said, with a sly grin. Hermione laughed and shifted her weight to her side so she could balance herself on her arm.

"What do you think will happen when you go back? When we wake up?" Draco opened his eyes and looked at her, as he played with her hair, letting his fingers twist the golden, brown coils.

"We'll probably get into trouble," he said, off-handedly.

"I really don't think we should," Hermione said, smiling. "The procedure worked, didn't it?"

"No thanks to the faculty," Draco said, with a slight snort. Hermione placated him by catching his other hand and kissing the tips of his fingers.

"What else? What do you want in life? We'll graduate from Hogwarts soon enough." Hermione looked at him with sober eyes. Draco regarded her carefully and seriously.

"You," he said, without a doubt in his gray eyes. "But it's not always for certain."

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

"Oh there are plenty of nice, smart boys at Hogwarts. Who knows which one might catch your fancy," Draco said. Hermione searched his face for a bit, and then smiled widely.

"Well then, if that's your worry, you really shouldn't lose any sleep over _that_." Hermione leaned forward until her lips were nearly touching Draco's own.

"If you want me in your life, I will always be there," she whispered. Draco closed the distance between them. Hermione felt herself growing nearly light-headed with giddiness and pleasure as his tongue danced between her lips and his teeth gently nibbled her bottom lip. He stopped briefly and caught her eyes in his own gray ones.

"And so will I," he said.

* * *


	24. Chapter Twenty Five

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty-five : **

The first thing Hermione felt was the complete agony her head was in. It felt as though someone had taken a nail and driven it through her head.

"Mmghf," was the most she could manage but she heard someone hurry to her side.

"You stay quite still, dear." It was Madame Pomfrey. "I'll fetch something for your head." Soon, Hermione felt something mercifully cool being put on her forehead and the ache started to fade. She opened her eyes to a blur of colors and gripped Madame Pomfrey's wrist. The peach and white swam before her eyes.

"Is everyone okay?" she croaked. Using the back of her hand, Hermione rubbed at her eyes and focused on her surroundings. She was in the infirmary, at the far left end of a row of cots. She could see Draco, still asleep, next to her, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny were sitting up in their beds; Ron was voraciously devouring what appeared to be porridge that McGonagall kept spooning into his bowl, with the most maternal expression on her face that Hermione had ever seen. Harry and Ginny, however, pushed their bowls away. Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows.

"That's a question we should all be asking _you_," Madame Pomfrey said. "But yes. Draco is still sleeping but I believe you silly children haven't killed yourselves off."

"_Us_ silly?" said an indignant Ron. "_You_ lot nearly killed us all!"

"And for that we apologize," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder to calm him. "The faculty was frantic; it was quite hard to calm them." The other faculty members in the room flushed a faint red and busied themselves with other things. For McGonagall, that meant to pour the remains of the porridge into Ron's bowl.

"Well?" asked Snape crisply. "Was it successful then?"

"What?" Hermione was bewildered for a minute. "_Oh_." Hermione suddenly realized that she _did_ remember everything. She even remembered _not_ remembering.

"Yes, I think we were _quite_ successful," she said, with a slight smile on her face.

"Well then, I have an entire student body to explain to that you five are well and alive," Snape said, turning on his heel. As he left, Ron swallowed and wiped some porridge off his chin.

"I reckon he looks a little disappointed, eh? He probably hoped that one of us would have croaked during the ordeal." McGonagall chided him but Harry chuckled. Next to Hermione, Draco started to stir. Hermione picked up her pillow and thumped him in the back with it.

"Wake up," she urged.

"Watch yourself, woman," he mumbled and she giggled. Draco opened his eyes and blinked several times. His face split into a grin as he struggled to bring himself up into a sitting position.

"Finally, we're all up," Hermione said.

"You remember me," Draco said. "I mean, do you _still_ remember me?"

"Yes, I think I remember just about everything now," Hermione said. "And it feels quite nice as well."

"Well then, if it's not too much trouble, I think we would all like to hear the whole story?" Dumbledore said, with a definite question mark punctuating the end of his sentence.

"Not until Severus returns," Madame Pomfrey said, as she crushed some herbs to add to a kettle of hot water. "And Hermione, there will be one more…well a headache spell, not unlike the ones you've experienced before you were healed. This will be different however, a flashback of the moment the split in your mind started to happen. And then it will all be over and done with, no more headaches, nothing."

"Oh." Hermione shrugged. That didn't sound too bad. She'll just have to wait it out until it happens and finally it will gloriously be over. No more headaches, no more memory gaps…Hermione stretched her arms over her head, smiling. It felt good.

"You didn't get started without me, did you?" Snape asked, as he returned.

"Well then," Dumbledore said, pulling up a stool and settling himself around. He looked at them from over his signature, half- moon spectacles. The five students looked at one another and then, as one, four of them turned to look at Hermione.

"What? Me? I go first?" Hermione asked. She was answered by vigorous nods. She huffed, a little exasperated, but began.

"It shouldn't really be my narrative, you know. I just went along with Harry and Ginny." She glanced at them. "And apparently they knew what they were doing."

"We noticed that she was crying but it wasn't just tears, they were blood," Ginny said, gesturing with her fingers, touching her cheeks. "So Harry and I researched in the library. We searched through virtually every medical book."

"Muggle subject books were useless," Harry added. Ginny nodded.

"But serendipity had it that we found this awfully old article about her ailment," Ginny continued.

"They mentioned this man who had tried this outdated method and we looked it up. We figured it would be worth the risk," at this, Harry hesitated but then looked at Dumbledore confidently and almost defiantly.

"We didn't want her to lose parts of who she was. Not to mention, her functioning abilities were at risk. If you forced me to choose again, I would do the same thing," Harry said.

"So would I," chimed in Ginny.

"And me," added Ron, swallowing the last bit of his porridge.

"None of use wanted to do this," Draco said. "But we had to and we'd do it again." Dumbledore examined each of them carefully.

"I'm not going to punish you or prosecute you students for what you have done," he said, slowly. "For I see in your eyes that you had thought it through thoroughly. I only wish you had trusted us enough to tell us so we could help with the procedure." The five exchanged glances with one another.

"But," Dumbledore continued. "I fully understand and I apologize once more for what tragedy we could have caused."

"I don't understand," Harry said, frowning. "We needed the Room of Requirement to keep us hidden but _you_ required for it to be found."

"I'm afraid it got quite confused," Dumbledore said. "And it was hard for it to gauge whose requirement was more urgent. We found the door but it refused to yield, most likely saving all of your lives." Hermione accepted the warm cup of tea that Madame Pomfrey handed her.

"Well, I'm just glad that it worked," she said.

"How did it work?" Ron asked. "We all reckoned Draco was a goner. You too, until we woke up ourselves and Madame Pomfrey reassured us that you guys weren't." Hermione felt her brow furrow.

"The split had been mended _just_ as the rope broke, we figure," she said. "Because my mind was healed, Draco wasn't sucked into the void and instead, I sort of…_housed_ him in my mind until the incantation ran its course." Hermione looked at Dumbledore for approval.

"I believe that's a quite accurate guess, Ms. Granger," he said. "The human mind has the ability to house another during the course of a spell. There are several spells for these, this particular one being one of them, Secret Keepers being another." At this, Harry looked down and picked at the blanket with his fingers.

"Hermione did indeed keep Draco in her mind until he was sent back to his own body. The urgency made Draco heal the split faster than the spell's allotted time." Ron put a hand to his forehead.

"I'm sorry I asked," he moaned.

"Next time I am giving you children and order to come to us first if you are about to try some new hare-brained spell you come to us first," McGonagall said.

"Let it go, Minerva," Snape said, to all of their surprise. "They're alive and we're all thankful. But that doesn't mean that you all will have an extension for your report that's due on Friday."

"Oh no," Ron groaned.

"I've already finished it," Hermione offered.

"Don't say that," Harry said, falling back onto his pillows. "I just want to sleep." Madame Pomfrey jumped up at that.

"That's right, these children need their rest. Now, Professors, if you don't mind exiting the room…" As Madame Pomfrey passed Ron, she gave him the smallest wink and whispered, "I'll convince that cantankerous Severus to give you all an extension."

"I love that woman," Ron declared, as he lazily stretched.

"Do I smell a wedding ring?" Harry teased, eyes closed already. Hermione smirked as well and realized she was awfully tired. She lay back down and pulled the covers snug around her. She found that she was facing Draco and she smiled.

"Have I mentioned how glad I am that you remember me?" Draco asked, eyes starting to close.

"Only several hundred times, yes," Hermione answered, grinning. "But I don't tire of it."

"Shush, lovebirds, I need my beauty rest," Ron called, from the other side of the room.

"You don't know how desperately you need it," Ginny said. Ron's yelp of indignation and Draco's sleepy smile were the last things Hermione registered as she fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione was suddenly jolted awake. She sat up straight in her bed as though she had been shocked and felt her body start to convulse as a headache started to grow in her head. Madame Pomfrey was at her side in an instant, gripping her shoulders to try and contain Hermione's jerky movements. 

"Just ride it out, dear," she said, soothingly. "Just wait it out and it'll be over." It was much worse than her earlier experiences. Hermione felt herself jerk forward and gag and then suddenly she was falling into herself, into blackness, and everything became loose and strange.

Hermione shook her head, or she _tried_ to, and found that it was quite impossible to make any sense of what was happening. She was…falling…maybe. Or perhaps she was just floating. Bright lights were surrounding her and suddenly Hermione felt as though she was waking up from a fainting spell. She felt marbles in her mouth and the strange tingling sensation in her hands and feet. Hermione checked her surroundings but then suddenly realized Madame Pomfrey's words. She would have a flashback to when her mind split had begun.

This was it.

Hermione was back at the raging Muggle club. Strobe lights and music bounced off the wall and Hermione found herself dancing, talking, flirting, and drinking all in a too fast manner, as though someone had pressed fast-forward on her life. As she was zipped through all of the events of that night, Hermione felt herself being pulled away as well. The world fell apart once more as she lost her conscious thought. She felt herself being shaken although it took her a moment to register it. Her eyes were open although she couldn't really _see_. She blinked several times as she regained her consciousness.

"It's over now," Madame Pomfrey said, inspecting Hermione's eyes. "Yes, I think that was the last of it." Draco had woken up as well and was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward, looking anxious. Hermione lunged forward and gripped Draco's wrist.

"No, no, it's not over," Hermione said, shaking. "I remember, I remember everything now."

"Yes, that's to be expected," Madame Pomfrey said, soothingly.

"No," Hermione insisted. She searched Draco's eyes. "Draco…I remember who it was at the club."

* * *


	25. Chapter Twenty Six

_Disclaimer_: Still don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty-Six :**

Draco felt his entire body tense as icy blood ran through its stony corridors. The room was completely and totally silent. When Draco sought and won control over his mouth again, he said, "Who? Who was it?" Hermione looked about the room then closed them, unable to handle the intensity of her friends' stares. She whispered something. Draco leaned close until his ear was by her mouth. She repeated herself.

Suddenly, the room was in a flurry of motion. Draco had leapt from the bed and pulled his hand from Hermione's grasp. There was a cry of surprise, from Hermione or Ginny, Draco would never really remember, and he ran from the room. Madame Pomfrey was shouting over the cacophony of noises and pressing Hermione back into the bed, insisting she was too weak to get out of bed. In the mess of madness and confusion, Hermione realized that Harry was gone as well. Ginny was by her side, holding her hand, asking her what was going on and Hermione hadn't even noticed until her friend had called her name urgently for the fifth time. She just shook her head.

"The consequences of this I can't even being to fathom," she whispered.

"The consequences of what, Hermione? What did you tell Draco?" Ginny urged. Hermione found she couldn't summon the strength to speak again. The feeling started to rapidly disappear from her body and felt as heavy as lead. It became a labor to even move her chest up and down in her breathing. As Madame Pomfrey pressed a vial to her lips, she let her vision swim before her eyes and finally let her consciousness go. She slipped into blessed darkness to wander the halls of oblivion, the last breath of calm before the chaos.

* * *

"Draco! Draco, _stop_!" Harry chased Draco down the halls, their bare feet hitting the stony floor painfully. Draco ran as if he knew where he was going, or perhaps he was running in madness. Harry could not say as he chased the blonde phantom down the corridors of Hogwarts. Suddenly, Draco skidded to a stop and studied the painting before him. 

"This is it, isn't it, Harry? This is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room." Harry looked up. Yes, yes it was. There was the Fat Lady before them, looking as grave as Harry had ever seen her before. Harry suddenly felt apprehension climb in his chest.

"How did you know," he asked, lowly.

"Things in Hogwarts have a way of appearing when needed," Draco said, in a strange sort of voice. It was hollow, as though he was reciting from something he had read before.

"Tell me the password." Harry looked at Draco, stunned.

"What?"

"You heard me. Tell me the password." Harry shook his head and moved so he stood before Draco and the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"I can't. Not when you're so unnerved and there's near madness in your eyes."

"Harry, this isn't the time for noble actions. Don't make me hurt you," Draco said, advancing on the other boy. "I need in _now_."

"Draco! Be reasonable; what are you going to do, go in there and kill somebody? Who are you after?" Harry demanded. Draco shoved Harry up against the portrait and Harry gasped, the wind momentarily knocked from his body. Their faces were only mere inches apart and it was as though the last few weeks had never occurred. Here they were again, sworn enemies, wishing to crush the other into bits of bone and robe.

They looked at each other, sizing each other up, wondering who would make the first move. Draco searched Harry's hard eyes with his own stony ones. They were completely without expression, only reflecting Draco's face like mirrors. The air was unbelievably thick with tension and the only sound in the hall was their harsh breathing.

"If Dean Thomas drugged Hermione and the consequences led to her near death, I don't think I have to be reasonable," Draco said, low and dangerous. They stared at each other for a moment longer.

"_Jabberwocky_," Harry whispered. The portrait swung open, soundlessly, and Draco gave Harry a nod. It was both an apology and an offer. Harry accepted both as he followed Draco and they crawled through the portrait hole and into the common room.

"Up those stairs," Harry said, and Draco wordlessly ran up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory and disappeared through the door. Harry hesitated before the closed door and closed his eyes for a second, everything sinking in. He would lose a friend, that was certain, one that had been a good, solid human being as well. Draco's words ran through his mind again. _If Dean Thomas drugged Hermione and the consequences led to her near death…_Harry pushed the door open to find Draco and Dean facing each other from opposite sides of the room.

"Harry!" Dean's face opened up and his expression turned to relief. "Thank god, what is _he_ doing here? How did he get in?" Harry pressed his lips together at the sight of his friend's (was he still a friend?) relief. Harry stepped into the room further and stopped behind Draco.

"I let him in," he said, in a low voice. Dean's expression changed from relief to confusion…then to panic.

"I don't understand," he said, slowly.

"Of course you don't," Draco spat. "You don't understand just like how you didn't understand the consequences of what you did when you drugged Hermione. You nearly killed her and you didn't even know." Dean staggered back a couple of steps. He appeared to be sizing up the situation, whether he would get away with protesting that he didn't know what Draco was talking about.

"It's not what you think," he finally said, slowly.

"It's not what I think?" Draco repeated, as though he was appalled at the other boy's audacity. He spoke again, his voice filled with scorn. "Then enlighten me, and Harry too because I know he's just _dying_ of curiosity. What is it then, if it's not precisely what it seems?" Dean stared at the other boy and swallowed, trying to bring moisture into his dry mouth.

"I don't know where to start," he said.

"_Why_ did you drug Hermione? Now there's a nice, clean place to start, don't you agree Harry?" Draco said, keeping his eyes on Dean the whole time.

"A man approached me in the beginning of last summer," Dean said. He watched both of them carefully as Draco slowly drew out his wand and pointed it at him.

"He _held_ my little sister for ransom. He promised me he would kill her if I didn't do as he said. He assured me that no lasting side-effects would be present if I slipped a potion into Hermione's drink that night, just that once. He knew where she'd be, when she'd be there. He told me if I did that, my sister, my family, would be safe. I did it to save my little sister. He promised me that Hermione wouldn't be hurt."

"And who might this man be?" Draco asked, some of the contempt fading from his voice.

"I don't know," Dean said, defiantly. Draco searched the other boy carefully.

"You're lying," he deduced.

"I can't say," Dean amended. He was started to become more flustered.

"I think it'd be best if you told us, Dean," Harry said, quietly. Dean jumped, as though he had forgotten Harry was in the room. Dean was shaking openly now.

"You will hurt me if I say. You would not believe me," he said.

"Try me," Draco said.

"Your…father. He introduced himself as Lucius and I looked him up. I knew it was your father I recognized the resemblance I failed to see when I met him." Draco looked at Dean carefully to make sure the other boy wasn't lying. The shock took a long time to register in Draco's mind.

"I didn't even truly _know_ Hermione until that night. What could have motivated my father to ask you to do something like that? Why?" Draco finally said. "Why would he go out of his way to hurt her so much? Hermione's nothing to him; she's insignificant, a mere useless pawn in the workings of his power mongering-"

"Don't you see already, Malfoy?" Dean blurted out. "This was never about Hermione, it never has been. Your father did this because of _you_." Draco shook his head, stepping back.

"No, no I don't understand, I don't see." Draco found himself refusing to comprehend Dean's words. What was that boy saying? Was he actually saying that it was…it was _his _fault, that he was to blame? Was it he, Draco Malfoy, who really, truly almost killed Hermione?

"You're lying!" he yelled. He shook the wand again, now pointed straight at Dean's chest. Dean's eyes widened.

"Draco, _no_!" Harry shouted, grabbing at the other boy's wand, trying to wrestle his aim down. While the two boys were struggling against one another, Dean used the opportunity to grab an object from underneath the mattress of his bed.

"Get out," Dean said, breathing hard, pointing the object at Draco. "I told you what you needed to know. Go to your _father_ if you want to know more." Harry froze the moment he saw Dean draw out the gun. His hands fell from Draco's arm and Harry took a step back. Tension arose, thick and heavy, and Harry swallowed hard. Something told him to keep from making sudden movements. Dean was completely on edge and there was truly no telling what he might do.

"Dean," he said, warningly. "Put it down. Put down the gun, _now_." Dean shook his head and kept shaking the gun at Draco. Draco eyed him apprehensively.

"It's a gun, Draco, a muggle invention. It will kill you sooner than you can utter any spell," Harry said. "I think you should leave." Draco ignored him.

"You can hardly believe you can get away with murder, especially in front of a witness," Draco said, scornfully.

"Don't think for a second I wouldn't," Dean said, breathing hard. "Don't think for a second I would regret killing you. Don't think for a second that I don't believe that you're just like your father! Lying, scheming bastards who will hurt anyone to climb to the top."

"You don't know the first thing about me," Draco growled. Deanjust shook his head andpointed the gun clearly at Draco's chest.

"I know you swagger and act like you're king of this school but you can't even measure up to please your murdering father," Dean said. "You would kill Hermione the first chance you get to prove to him that you're man enough."

"Dean," Harry said, sharply. "You know that's not true." The tension in the room seemed to break Dean. He whirled on Harry, eyes wide, sweat beading on his forehead.

"He almost killed my sister!" he screamed. "Don't tell me I don't know what they're capable of!" He swung the gun towards Harry this time. Draco waved the wand and shouted a spell that hit Dean in the chest, knocking him back against the wall as he inadvertently pulled the trigger.

Two shots rang out

And everything faded to black.

* * *


	26. Chapter Twenty Seven

_Disclaimer_: Still don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty-Seven :**

Hermione sat unmoving on the wooden bench, staring off into space as she listened to the nameless judge seated in the front of the room. Although the Great Hall was filled with people, Hermione felt as though she was completely and totally alone. She vaguely recalled Dumbledore quickly explaining the process of a wizard trial to her. It sounded a lot like a muggle trial…just with wizards. He had told her, looking more than a little harried, that this would be a quick, make-shift trial, because they were all juveniles. To be honest, Hermione didn't really understand any of this. Every little thing was a mystery, from walking to remembering to breathe. The last time she felt this disoriented was when she woke up and was slammed with amnesia due to a magical infliction.

She could recall with greater clarity what Dumbledore looked like, rather than what he was saying. He seemed truly aged; any light that had danced in his eyes were put out. Ice seemed to fill her insides, falling from her throat, joshing her heart, and clattering noisily on the pit of her stomach. She flexed fingers that felt as though they didn't belong to her. They seemed small, narrow, and terrified. Was it possible for parts of her body to be removed and terrified by themselves? Hermione vaguely realized that she wasn't being coherent.

Someone beckoned towards Hermione and she got up. Why was it so cold in the room? She didn't recall it being this cold when she ate her meals here, three times a day. She was led to an even colder chair where she was suddenly hit with a barrage of questions. Answer fell, numbly, from her cold, blue lips. Where did her words go after they faded into silence?

The room seemed to be filled with nothing but nameless eyes and they were all on her. They eyes stretched from right in front of her to the back doors. She had lost track of the time. Hermione heard her voice escape her lips, without her consent, to hang, dismembered and dying, in the air.

"And you said you went on a…date? A date with Dean Thomas?"

"Yes."

"And what did you do on this date?"

"Objection, your honor. How is this _relevant _to the case?"

"I have a point."

"Then make it."

"Could you please describe what happened at the end of this 'date'?"

"Ms. Granger?"

"The girl is ill. You can hardly expect her to answer every hare-brained question."

"_Severus_."

"We are wasting time. The children are ill and grieving and I will not sit here and watch them endure a ridiculous trial that should be set up _months_ from now."

"_Minerva_."

"I understand that your hands are tied, Albus, but this is ridiculous."

"Albus Dumbledore, if you cannot restrain your faculty, we will restrain them _for_ you."

"She won't answer the question. She still hasn't."

"Then could someone _else_ please explain what happened?"

"Yes, your honor. They were said to be taking a walk when supposedly Dean Thomas slipped and fell. In trying to stop his fall, Hermione Granger fell as well and hit her head. She woke up with temporary amnesia but she has recovered since."

"Do you believe it was in malicious intent, Ms. Granger?"

"What are you implying? That this boy, who is only seventeen, would risk his own neck in hopes that Ms. Granger would jump off the cliff after to him? That is too absurd to even be considered a possibility."

"She still hasn't answered."

"Ms. Granger?"

"It wasn't in malicious intent."

The questions and voices kept going on. The questions jumbled themselves up inside her head as she stared off into space like a dead doll. Different voices would object the whole procedure, that it was too early, that she was sick, that this whole ordeal was absurd. Why was the trial so early? Was she dreaming all of this?

She felt herself gasping. Was that her own hands that were grasping at her throat? Hermione felt as though she was standing in the opposite side of the room, watching herself fall to her knees. She watched herself be surrounded by the faculty. Hermione watched, silently, as she was helped to her chair. The never-ending trial continued.

* * *

Ron pulled his sister close to him, patting her shoulder. Their family, especially their mother, was openly affectionate, but he and Ginny had stopped hugging years ago. It just seemed too awkward and weird. But now, when he had no words of comfort, nothing in the world that could make the thin, red-haired girl seated next to him feel less wretched, the only thing he could think of was to hold her close to him. Maybe that wouldn't make her feel better either, but it was proof that at least her brother was still next to her, alive.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall's lips were pressed together tightly, turning white. She was furious, to say the least. Of all the rude, preposterous things to do. She was completely speechless. The white, drawn faces of her students, wearing expressions of people much, _much_ older than they are, was enough to make her anger rise again, like a phoenix, from the flames of her fury. 

It was the politics of the wizarding world that she did not appreciate, the endless intrigue and the secret alliances, backstabbing, and blackmailing. They were supposed to be wizards and witches! They were supposed to be an advanced, hidden society, not like those fumbling muggles that were still relying on electricity, who fought over the most outrageous things like oil. But here was her beloved wizarding community that was putting her even more beloved students through torture because of the precarious maneuverings of those in high position. Leave these children alone! They are _grieving_. Let them fight amongst themselves but leave the children alone!

Next to her, Albus' was completely stiff and his face was expressionless. Across the room, she could see Severus seething; they both did have a hard time hiding their anger. After several moments, Severus got up and turned swiftly on his heel, his robes turning around him. All eyes were on him as he stormed out of the room, his shoes making curt noises against the stone ground. The room seemed to shake when he slammed the door shut behind him. After a moment, Minerva followed him. She could endure this no longer.

* * *

Hermione felt something strange in her eyes. She kept bringing her hand up to her eyes but they came away wet and clear. They weren't the right color. The backs of her hands didn't come back smeared with blood like expected. It was the most peculiar feeling. 

Suddenly, the judge slammed his gavel down and Hermione realized that the jurymen had silently filed back in, heads bowed like children who had been scolded. They all looked up at the cold, marble judge. His face was paper white and she could see the blue veins on his neck.

"Dean Thomas has been charged with"

Time seemed to drag on and each word seemed to drop and clatter and break on the ground. Every single person in the great room held their breath. Hermione raised her haggard, tear-stained face to look at the judge, who stared back at her with his obsidian eyes.

"Dean Thomas is not guilty for the death of Draco Malfoy."

* * *


	27. Chapter Twenty Eight

_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**: Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka :**

**: Chapter Twenty Eight :**

You said that you would love me forever, but that didn't really work out, did it?

First we came to Hogwarts and you ignored me. And then I forgot you. And now you died.

I knew you were going to. Die, I mean. I knew what was going to happen the minute I whispered in your ear that it was Dean. I could tell by the crazy look on your face that you wanted to kill him. But Dean wasn't someone that you would think would die, when you look around a room full of people. He's not the type to die so soon.

But you were. You were so powerful and so beautiful and so sad and so young. You were too bright to live for long. You were like a god, a star, a burst of spangled lights that hang in the night sky as a backdrop for the last turn of the Ferris wheel. You were going to burn out so soon, too soon.

I was sitting on the infirmary bed, picking at my cuticles, when they walked in to tell me what I already knew. I was expecting to hear what I did but at the same time, I kept hoping that I was wrong. I don't remember much then. I just remember realizing I can't see you again. Forever.

I can't see you bite your lip when you're concentrating on something. I can't see you stand at the stove, with a silly apron on, trying to scramble eggs and hopelessly failing on a Sunday morning. I can't see your gray eyes, your blonde hair, and your small smile. I can't see your face next to mine when we wake up on a sunny morning and we realize we both dreamt the same dream the night before.

Remember how we used to fight when we were younger? I would have never guessed that it would have been you that I would kill to have just one more minute with. If I could just have one more minutes with you…I guess I don't know what I would say.

No, I lied. I guess I do know what to say. I'd say I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry for what happened with Dean. I'm sorry that it had to end this way. I'm sorry that you died. I'm sorry that I'm left behind. I'm sorry you went where I couldn't be with you.

But I'm not sorry for what we did. I'm not sorry for this past summer. I'm not sorry for every time I said I love you and you said it back. I'm not sorry for falling in love with you.

And if I had just one more minute with you, I know you would say the same thing to me.

I'm sorry.

* * *

Ron and Ginny were pushed along the flow of people that were filing out of the Great Hall after the verdict had been given. It was almost anticlimactic, the way they pushed Dean out of the room and the jury and judge followed. Ron and Ginny clung to one another, the only familiar thing in this strange, cold place now. Finally, when they were outside the Great Hall, Ron pulled Ginny against the wall right outside the door, away from the flow of people. 

"What was _that_?" Ron whispered. Ginny, eyes wide, shrugged. She caught a glance of Pansy passing by, face covered by her robes. Ginny shuddered and looked away.

"What do you mean?" she asked back. She didn't know why they were whispering; it didn't seem as though people around them could hear them. The entire student body of Hogwarts were milling around aimlessly, as though in a stupor. It seemed as though a spell, just like in the fairy tale, had been cast over the whole castle and only just now everyone had woken up, disoriented and dazed.

"The verdict! That was bollocks, Ginny! We both know Dean intended on offing Draco, maybe even Harry!" Ginny shook her head.

"I know," she said, softly. "But you heard them; they said Harry wasn't testifying and he was the only witness. Dean, obviously, wasn't about to admit cold murder against himself!"

"What's to become of Dean then?" Ron asked, quietly. Ginny shrunk against the wall when an errant elbow caught her in the ribs.

"I don't know; the sentence wasn't very harsh," she said. "None of this makes sense! There's something so strange about all of this, I just can't put my finger on it."

"Wait a minute," Ron said, suddenly. They looked at each other.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked, echoing what was running through Ron's own mind.

* * *

"Hermione!" Ginny clutched her robe closer to her; it was getting dark and cold. She wandered almost aimlessly, trying to find her friend. Her feet hit a worn path that led her to the lake. There, standing motionlessly about knee-deep in the cold water was Hermione. 

"Ron!" Ginny called. She tried to wave her brother over but it was hard to tell if he saw her. The long, frigid day was turning over to a freezing night. Pausing only to kick off her shoes, Ginny waded into the icy water and tried to push back the shock of the searing water hitting her skin. Her robes floated around her as she carefully sloshed her way to her friend.

"Hermione? Hermione, let's go. You'll get cold," she said, wrapping an arm around her friend. She tried to turn Hermione back towards the shore but her friend resisted.

"It's not cold," she said, in an automated voice. "It's not cold. I can't feel it."

"You're just numb," Ginny said, trying to speak as soothingly as possible.

"Hermione!" Ron splashed his way into the lake, yelping and swearing as he made his way to them.

"Come on, Hermione. You'll catch your death out here," he said. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulder as well.

"Stop, just stop," Hermione wailed. It was a child's sob, a strangled cry with no hope, just despair. She pounded her fists against Ron's chest half-heartedly as she shook. Ron wasn't sure if it was from the cold or just from sadness. He pulled her close to him and let her cry. She was shaking so hard and he could feel her tears through his shirt. He caught Ginny's weary gaze. Their identical amber eyes were clouded with confusion. What could they tell Hermione? There was nothing they could tell her that could make her feel better. Resigned, Ginny took off her robe and settled it around Hermione's shoulders.

"Let's go, Hermione."

"I saw him here, did you know that? I saw him here and he was so beautiful." Hermione was still sobbing and sank down on her knees, up to her shoulders in the icy, black waters. Ginny's robe slipped off and floated haphazardly away by itself, like a dark wraith.

"Hermione, you're not making sense," Ron said, quietly.

"Ron, help me get her up," Ginny said. They each pulled her up by an arm and slowly started to walk her out of the water. They were thoroughly drenched and shivering visibly.

"We have to get her to Madame Pomfrey and fast," Ron said. "She's turning blue." They started, miserably and slowly, back to Hogwarts, where none of them really wanted to be anymore.

* * *

Harry waited until Madame Pomfrey left the room. Then he carefully sat up and paused and gasped, feeling pain sear through his whole body. He touched his chest, where the blood soaked bandage was. He still couldn't believe he was alive. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed he carefully placed them on the cold stone floor. He counted to ten then forced himself to stand up and leave the infirmary. 

The corridors were empty. No doubt they were still huddled in the Great Hall, gossiping and trying to figure out just what the hell had happened. Harry shook his hair out of his head and started to run. Sharp needles of pain started to stab at his wound and his feet ached but he kept running.

Madame Pomfrey would never forgive him and he'd probably be stuck in the infirmary until the end of the term. That errant thought floated past his mind as Harry tried to catch his breath, turning a corner. He leaned forward and started to wheeze and cough. He tasted tangy metal in his mouth that he knew would be red in color.

"Potter! What are you doing here? You should be lying down!" Harry inwardly groaned. Of all the people to run into…

"I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Harry gasped. He grabbed at his chest; to think he knew pain before this. Snape whirled upon him like a raven in his swirling robes. Harry felt cool fingers press against his wrist, presumably checking his pulse.

"This will not do," Snape muttered. "Come, Potter, I'm sure whatever you need to say can wait. You have to be back at the infirmary."

"No!" Harry shouted, pushing Snape's hands back with whatever strength had had left in his body. Harry felt his back hit the cold, stone wall and rested against it for a moment, sliding to the ground.

"If it could wait, do you think I would be here right now?" Snape was looking at him with an indecipherable expression.

"You have quite the reputation of blowing things out of proportion," he said, with only a touch of wryness in his voice. Harry shook his head. Snape needed to understand. He _needed_ to talk to Dumbledore and _now_ before he passed out or died from blood loss or whatever horrible ailment that the cosmos might throw at him to keep him from learning the truth. The fucking truth that is always so unattainable. He's spent the last seventeen years of his life with people concealing things from him but not anymore. He wanted to know what happened to his friend and he _would_ find out.

"_This is not like those other times_," Harry said, lowly. He looked up at Snape who still had that strange expression. They stared at each other. Snape seemed to be sorting through a medley of emotions. Here was the boy that he would distress at any opportunity he got; here was the boy that held the face of his father that was the bane of his existence. But was this really the time for ancient grudges? As all of this passed through his mind, Snape's eyes cleared and settled on the face of the pale boy before him.

"I didn't see any of this," Snape said, slowly. "And Madame Pomfrey will not know of it until you are safe and away in Dumbledore's office." Harry breathed a sigh of relief and stumbled towards the statue entrance to Dumbledore's office. When he stopped before it, something inside of him snapped.

"Open up!" Harry screamed. "Open up!" Suddenly, without another soul in his vicinity, Harry felt his sanity leaving him. He pounded at the statue.

"Open, damn you, you owe me! Yes, yes you owe me. You owe me an explanation!" Harry slumped to the floor, out of breath. The statue started to move as Dumbledore hurried out of it, looking alarmed.

"Harry Potter?" he said. The old wizard hurried to the young boy and helped him up.

"You should be at the infirmary," he said, checking Harry's pulse, much like Snape had done.

"No," Harry said. "Not until you tell me what is going on." Dumbledore found no argument in his face and helped the boy into his office. He quickly set a mug of hot tea before Harry. The boy pushed it away.

"Why is Dean being charged for the death of Draco Malfoy?" he demanded. Dumbledore look at him, looking surprised. A little _too_ surprised, for Harry's taste.

"Didn't you hear the sentence? Dean's been cleared. He is not guilty," he said mildly.

"You know what I'm talking about," Harry said, leaning forward. He vaguely realized he was dripping blood onto Dumbledore's table but he didn't care.

"Why is Dean being charged for the _death_ of Draco Malfoy? You know as well as I do, Professor Dumbledore. I know you do. _Draco's not dead_."

* * *


End file.
